We Are Going to Make It
by With Good Grace
Summary: Future!fic: Quinn Fabray had spent her entire high school career trying to break Rachel Berry. Now that she saw that Rachel really was broken, Quinn just wanted to put her back together.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I'm back! This story has been in my mind for quite sometime now. I wanted to do a more original Faberry future fic, so here is my attempt. This chapter may be a little boring because it's background information, but don't worry there will be Faberry eventually! I would love it if you guys commented, too. I love hearing from you guys :3 Thank you! Happy reading!

*** I just recently edited/rewrote because of second hand embarssment!***

* * *

It was a Monday night. There were dirty dishes piled high in the sink filled with sudsy water. A woman was scrubbing away the evidence of the meal, the dull buzz of a football game lingering in the background.

The woman's mind drifted towards her high school days, back when all that mattered was being popular and getting good grades. Money didn't matter so much then. She had been a cheerleader, faithfully standing at each game in the cold cheering for the far-from-athletic boys as she wore her sinfully short skirt.

There were tall boys in red uniforms spiriting down the field, some getting tackled, some throwing a winning pass or dropping a losing one. All of her high school boyfriends had been on that losing team. Something about a man in uniform, or more a man in power, had infatuated her back then, though really, those boys were no different from the nerds or music geeks. They just had nice uniforms.

"Hey, honey, could you grab me a beer?"

Quinn was pulled from her stroll down memory lane and thrown back into her current life, married life. She went to the fridge, grabbed a cool brown bottle, and made her way to the living room.

"Thanks baby," the man in the armchair muttered as he eagerly began to down the alcohol.

She glanced at her husband before returning to the dishes. As she cleaned, making sure each plate was spotless for her husband, she began to hum a familiar tune.

_Just a small town girl,_

_Living in a lonely world._

A smile, her first genuine smile in months, tugged at her lips.

Glee Club.

She had joined to keep an eye on her first quarterback boyfriend. She remembered feeling him quickly slip away from her. Somehow, despite the drama, she found that she quite enjoyed spending time with the misfits. Singing and dancing was fun, but if anything it was the feeling of belonging to something special that made her love it more than cheerleading.

_God, I sound like Rachel Berry._

Quinn was now twenty-five years old, still living in Lima, Ohio. Most of her fellow Glee friends had left, Kurt and Rachel to New York, Mercedes to Los Angeles, Tina and Artie to Chicago. Brittany and Santana had moved in together and went on to Ohio State to pursue cheerleading.

There were only two other people who were left besides her in their hometown, Finn, who was supporting his mother and father at the garage while going to community college, and Puck, doing whatever the hell he was doing.

Somehow, Quinn had managed to do exactly the opposite of what she dreamed of.

Somehow, she was still in Ohio, a Lima Loser.

She had wanted to go to New York; NYU was her dream school.

And she had gotten in too. Everything had been going the way she had dreamed it would be going.

A new school in a new city with new people was the perfect fresh start. In New York, no one would know she had been pregnant at sixteen. No one would know she had cheated on her boyfriend with her boyfriend's best friend.

No one would know who she was.

Her biggest fear had always been that she would end up like her sister or like her mother, alone, in a big empty house with an oppressive husband in Ohio.

Yet here she was, alone in a big empty house with a distant, though not oppressive, husband. He was sweet and faithful and cared for Quinn more than she had expected him to, unlike her own father who regarded his wife as a piece of dirt on his leather shoe.

No, Sam Evans was far from oppressive.

In high school, he had charmed his was to the top of the social ladder with his adorable blonde hair and sweet smile. He wasn't the smartest kid, but his looks and his voice brought him success.

It wasn't long before he was on the football team, battling like so many others for the top spot, the quarterback, ultimately winning the prestigious spot. As he reveled in his newfound popularity, he finally knew he had a chance to be with the head cheerleader, Quinn Fabray.

It was a match made in heaven.

Quinn was hesitant at first, as she had just given away her child for adoption only a few months prior.

The loss had been eating away at her, a giant gaping hole where her daughter had once lived. Sam Evans was the perfect giant-gaping-hole-filling candidate she had.

So when he promised to be true, to make her proud, to never ever hurt her, she pushed away her doubts and surrendered.

Midway through her senior year, her father had come crawling back to them. Not to Quinn's surprise, her mother let him back home. The remainder of her year was spent watching her mother worship her father as he drowned himself in alcohol.

When she had told her parents about Sam, they were more than pleased. Up until then, they were living in a delusional reality where Quinn had never gotten pregnant, where she had never been thrown out of her home, and where her father had never cheated.

"Invite the boy over, Quinnie. I want to meet the man," her father had said that night before taking a swig of liquor.

A week later, Quinn brought Sam to her house for dinner.

Her parents loved him.

He was sweet, charming, handsome and most importantly popular.

Great for the Fabray reputation, her father had said.

Sam and Quinn would attend university together in California at UCLA. Mr. Fabray offered to pay for both of their tuitions, and they gratefully accepted.

They spent four years studying together and getting to know each other better.

Quinn should have been happy.

She was at school with her boyfriend of then three years getting fantastic grades and not having to pay a dime for anything.

She was miserable.

Sam was too busy pursuing with his football career, rarely spending time with her. When he wasn't playing football he was out with the team drinking at whatever party was happening that night.

A few months after graduation, under the stars at the park, that Sam asked her to marry him.

If she had had her doubts about dating him five years prior, imagine the doubts she had had at that moment.

Her heart screamed in protest.

Quinn's heart didn't beat out of her chest when she saw him.

Her lips never tingled when he kissed her.

Her heart never skipped a beat at the sight of him smiling.

It was not love. It was convenience.

When Quinn pictured her life, she didn't see Sam as her husband.

She was in New York teaching young children addition and long division, not playing the good wife making her husband dinner and cleaning the house while he went out and made the money.

But her head was saying yes.

This was what was supposed to happen. Marry a boy after college, have a baby, die in a nursing home.

Her parents wanted her to marry this boy. They were the "it" couple, everyone envied them. Ken and Barbie, as a brunette used to call them, although then it had a negative connotation.

It was the right thing to do.

Sam was sweet and loved her more than she would ever know, but in the end she said yes because he was there, he was knocking at her door and no one else was.

Sam had beamed, spinning her around and kissed her hard on the lips before announcing to the world that he had finally captured Quinn Fabray, like she was some prize at the county fair.

Now, she stood in her kitchen, her hand frozen underneath the scalding hot water, remembering how she got to that point.

Was this it?

According to her parents, it was. She had found a good man who would take care of her and had enough money to last her a lifetime.

It should have been enough, but it wasn't.

She wasn't happy. She didn't jump out of bed in anticipation for the day. She dragged herself out of bed to make them breakfast and give Sam his coffee and newspaper before sending him off to work.

No, this couldn't be it; there had to be more to life than this. There had to be more.


	2. Chapter 2

A cool breeze tickled Quinn's neck as she was literally dragged down Main Street. It must have been negative thirty degrees outside. Her feet had become were numb after only five minutes of walking now. Her nose was redder than her old Cheerio's uniform.

"Mom, this is stupid. I hate plays," she scowled as she pulled her coat tighter onto her body.

Judy Fabray, completely unaffected by her daughter's lame protests, continued to pull her towards the Lima Community Theater.

Apparently the two had not been spending enough "quality time" together since Quinn and Sam moved back home from college.

This was her mother's grand scheme to rekindle her love with her daughter.

Quinn had to give her mother credit, though. She was trying, truly trying, to make things right.

"Quinnie, you love shows!" Quinn winced at the childish nickname. "I found that poster of Le Miserable's in your closet a few months ago. You are going to love this!"

Judy stopped, slid her arm through Quinn's, and squeezed her forearm softly. "If you don't like it, we can go eat dinner at Breadstix. Would you like that, honey?"

Quinn sighed. She couldn't turn down a dinner at Breadstix. Santana would kill her.

"Fine, but I swear if it is Oklahoma, I'm out!"

Her mother laughed.

"I knew you liked plays!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

Quinn rolled her eyes, but a smile shined through her faux-annoyed expression.

They continued down the street, looking at different shop windows decked out in holiday lights and decorations. Snow was covering the sidewalk, and Quinn's boots left footprints in the white layer of ice.

It was Saturday night, and instead of going to the bar with Santana and Brittany she was with her mother, going to see a play.

High school Quinn would be pissed off, but this Quinn, the real Quinn, had butterflies whirling around in her stomach. Shows always got her excited.

They arrived at the door to the theater where Judy showed the doorman their tickets.

"Enjoy the show!" the cheery old man said as he held the door open for the two blondes.

-/-

A young woman of twenty-five stared confidently at her reflection in her dressing room mirror.

Her cheekbones were more defined than they were in her teenage years, and her makeup artist had accentuated her dark brown eyes.

She inhaled, let out a deep breath, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Five minutes to show time," the stage manager called through the intercom.

Rachel Berry's eyes flew open. She jumped up out of her chair.

This was the moment she was waiting for. After performing the show at least thirty times that winter in rehearsal and then another ten from opening week, Rachel was ready.

It was her eleventh show of the season. It was her favorite musical. Her idol had played her part.

Rachel's eyes darted back to the mirror, scanning up and down her body, making sure she was perfect for her performance.

"I'm ready," she whispered to herself and quickly exited her dressing room.

She stalked down the busy hallway, her heels clicking as she made her way to the stage.

People were bustling around, some carrying costumes, others wearing all black and official headsets.

Rachel walked onto the stage, the curtain down, and stopped at her mark. She drew in another deep breath and looked over at her fellow cast mates.

They were standing in a perfectly straight line. She smiled at them proudly.

All of them smiled back.

Her heart was pounding rapidly as she anticipated the starting notes. There was nothing like the thrill of performing.

The buzz of the crowd rang in the actors' ears as they awaited the curtain's opening.

Suddenly, the buzz stopped, and the theater was silent.

The piano struck its first chords. The curtain slowly opened. A smile graced the brunette's face because she belonged on the stage, because she was home.

-/-

The curtain opened and all eyes laid on the stage in front of them.

Quinn's heart was beating faster as she heard the opening notes. This was her favorite musical, even if it was probably going to be butchered by a mediocre cast in a more than mediocre theater. That didn't stop her from getting butterflies as the piano sang brightly, ringing throughout the theater.

Then, right in front of her eyes, there stood eight figures in a straight line. The lights were dimmed, the actors' faces not yet visible.

Then, each figure was illuminated in the spotlight. They began singing, their voices echoing throughout the moderately filled theater.

Quinn's eyes surveyed the stage, pausing at each character.

There was Mark dressed in his signature sweater and striped scarf. He had the orange hair, and the sweet face to match.

She moved to the next figure, a young Latino who stared out into the audience with his chocolate brown eyes.

Her eyes continued down the line, but immediately froze on a short woman, the woman she assumed was playing Maureen.

Her heart sped up even faster as she noted those defined cheekbones, those shimmering brown locks, and that curved nose.

As the cast proceeded with the number, Quinn viciously grabbed her purse and ripped it open. Her hand fumbled in the dark for her cell phone.

A few seconds later, the device was in her hand. She pulled out her program from her pocket. As quietly as she could, Quinn flipped through the booklet, searching for the cast list.

_Mark Cohen played by Zachary Cohen  
Roger Davis played by Liam Kramer_

_Mimi Márquez played by Julia Soto_

_Angel Dumott Schunard played by James Turner_

_Maureen Johnson played by Rachel Barbra Berry_

Quinn's heart stopped.

The Rachel Berry she remembered was awkward, extremely obnoxious, and had a personality that made her want to light herself on fire.

The woman she saw on that rundown stage was beautiful, poised, and elegant. Her features were beautifully defined, her nose fitting her now matured face.

Her eyes were as deep as a chocolate sea, the swirls causing Quinn to lose herself in the midst of the color. She had lightly tanned skin that shimmered in the spot-

Wait.

This was all wrong, though.

Rachel Berry supposed to end up on Broadway. It must be some sort of freak typo. Maybe she was hallucinating.

Had her mother drugged the coffee she had bought her on the way here?

Quinn took a deep breath and brought her attention back to the stage. Her eyes immediately landed on the brunette.

Their eyes met, brown melding with hazel in an explosion of emotion that caused the smaller girl to falter imperceptibly.

Quinn's hands became sweaty, her heart pounding louder. She covered her chest with her shaking clammy hands in an effort to muffle the sound ringing in her ears.

The woman composed herself and managed a small, barely noticeable to the average audience, but bright smile aimed towards a particular blonde, inducing said blonde's now third heart attack of the evening.

That was definitely Rachel Berry.

-/-

Rachel darted off stage into her dressing room. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins as she breathed heavily in and out. As always, a bouquet of flowers was sitting at her dresser with a card.

_Congratulations, Rach. You are amazing, baby._

_Love,_

_Dad and Daddy_

Her heart swelled.

Rachel was so lucky to have parents like her fathers, parents who loved her and supported her regardless of the fact that the past few years had been rough for the young ingénue.

At the start of her senior year, Rachel had obviously applied to NYU's acting school, Tisch, and Julliard for music, those were simply a given. She had spent hours making sure her audition tapes were picture perfect.

Every detail was planned down to the pictures in the background and the pin she wore on her burgundy sweater. Her entire life had been dedicated towards getting onto Broadway, towards being a famous performer.

She applied to a bunch of other safety schools, but her heart was set on Julliard. It was her dream school and would make her an even more brilliant performer than she already was.

When April finally arrived, Rachel stalked her mailman, begging him for a letter he did not have.

Then, on April 2nd, Rachel had her letter. She had practically tackled the poor man before running inside to show her parents. They sat in the family and watched Rachel dramatically open the letter she knew would tell her that she was attending one of the most prestigious music schools in the country.

Her fingers ran over the envelope and finally she ripped it open.

As her eyes scanned the paper in her shaking hands, her facial expression froze.

She looked over to her fathers, the tears spilling over her chocolate brown eyes.

Within two seconds they were hugging her telling her it was going to be okay, but how could it be okay if she wasn't going to Julliard? How would she make it to Broadway if she didn't go there?

The next few months were filled with crying, anger, and more than anything a loss of motivation.

Glee club became a chore as did school. She still sang and attended every rehearsal, but she didn't see the point in it anymore. By the end of her senior year it had been decided that she would be going to Columbia in New York.

She was still excited to see the big apple, but her heart was screaming for her to go to Julliard.

College for Rachel was a good experience. She had made friends and had met up with Kurt a few times, but no one besides him and Finn had known where she was attending. While she was at school she auditioned for plays, mainly off Broadway ones.

The one play she did get was disastrous. She was an extra, not even one line, and no one came to see it.

Rachel worked hard for four years, training to become an even better singer and actress, but it hadn't paid off.

During her last year at Columbia, she got up the nerve to audition for a Broadway show. She filled out her application and went in on a cool spring day. In her mind, her audition was flawless. There were some nerves, but over all she knew what she was doing.

They told her they would call her by the next day to tell her if she got a call back or not. Of course she spent the entire day staring at her cell phone, willing it to ring, willing the person on the other end of the line to tell her she had a chance.

Then it finally rang. She grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

Her hands were choking the plastic phone, and her heart had jumped to her throat.

"Hello, Ms. Berry. I am sorry to inform you that you have not received a call back. Thank you for your time, and we look forward to seeing you audition in the future."

Rejection.

It drove Rachel Berry straight back to Ohio.

In Ohio, Rachel was the best of the best. She hadn't been accepted necessarily, but people knew she was talented.

She couldn't will herself to stay in New York. It hurt too much.

So she ran back home to her parents, got a job at the community theater and auditioned for their shows, earning the lead every time.

Tonight's show was different, but she couldn't put her finger on why.

During the opening number, when she could see the audience, she had made eye contact with a beautiful blonde woman. She had porcelain skin and perfect bone structure and hazel eyes.

"How's my little star?" an excited voice exclaimed, startling Rachel out of her memory.

She ran into her dad's arms and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you, Dad, but I am no star. This is no Broadway."

He kissed her on the cheek.

"You are my star, no matter where you perform. Come, let's go meet your fans, shall we?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag before skipping out with her father. They were greeted with a medium sized crowd. Her eyes skimmed the group, looking for people to notice her.

It wasn't long before she collided with those hazel eyes. Her heart began to race.

That blonde was Quinn Fabray.


	3. Chapter 3

All Rachel could do was gawk at the blonde across the lobby. As subtly as possible, she pinched her arm, immediately flinching at the short bit of pain. This was definitely real.

She tried to stay calm, her heart betrayed her, thumping frantically in her chest.

Gaping at the girl across the room, Rachel was frozen in her place, her father chatting animatedly about the second act completely obvious to his daughter's uncharacteristic silence.

Quinn's eyes rose and met Rachel's, and that small crowd disappeared.

Quinn had changed since high school. Her blonde hair fell shorter, barely touching her shoulders. She had lost a considerable amount of weight since high school, the last of her baby fat now gone with her age, but still managed a beautiful hour glass figure and muscular legs. The light from the dusty windows illuminated her glassy skin. Her hazel eyes still lacked their usual luster, and the bags underneath her eyes were somewhat startling.

Rachel blinked out of her now creepy stare and attempted to look away and concentrate on the one-sided conversation her father was still having with her. She nodded absently, her eyes begging to look back at her former torturer.

"Rachel?" her father asked with concern.

"Wha-what?" she stuttered as her trance was broken by her father's voice, laced with worry.

Rachel couldn't take it anymore.

"Is everything alright?"

She nodded furiously.

"Everything is fine, Dad. Can you excuse me for a moment? I want to make the rounds and see if anyone is eager for an autograph, although I highly doubt it."

With a deep breath and a straightening of her shoulders, Rachel prepared herself for the encounter.

She strutted somewhat confidently towards Quinn and her mother. Mrs. Fabray was talking with the doorman, the blonde perusing the events board. Was she staring at Rachel's headshot?

As if on cue, Quinn turned around at Rachel's arrival, giving her a tired smile.

"Hello, Rachel," she said softly, her light voice barely audible above the noise of the tiny crowd.

The sound of this new Quinn rendered Rachel speechless. Quinn laughed quietly to herself as she watched Rachel gape at her.

"Rachel, I'm not going to bite, I promise."

"Sorry, I- it's just- you are here and- I just-," Rachel managed to get out, stumbling over her words.

Quinn interrupted before Rachel could further humiliate herself.

"My mother brought me here. I've lived here my whole life, and somehow have never gotten over to this little theater. I didn't know you were back in Lima as well. How long have you been here?"

Rachel's body stiffened.

"Well, it's a bit of a long story…"she prompted, flinching at the cliché of her statement.

"I do love a long story," Quinn prodded as she bit her bottom lip nervously.

Rachel smiled sadly with a shake of her head. "I am not sure if you'd want to endure such a story," she warned. "Most people do not willingly consent to hearing any of my famously long stories.

Quinn smiled, this time with more energy.

"I'm not most people," she replied without hesitation.

Rachel's heart leapt to her throat. Quinn threw a glance over to her mother, chewing on her finger.

"You shouldn't bite your nails, Quinn. You can get a host of diseases from the germs habituating beneath your fingernails," Rachel scolded without thinking.

Immediately, a blushed pervaded her already burning cheeks. Quinn quirked an eyebrow up, pulling her finger away from her mouth.

"Yes, mam," Quinn teased.

"W-well, I was simply looking out for your health. I wouldn't want you to get ill because of an unhealthy habit."

Quinn blushed lightly. "Thanks," she murmured.

An awkward silence wedged its way between the two. Rachel's eyes found the floor.

"I don't really know what to say to you," Rachel admitted quietly.

Quinn sighed. "I didn't expect you to say anything, Rachel. I honestly don't deserve your time. And I didn't know you were in this show either. If I had known…"

Rachel nodded. "You wouldn't have come, I know."

Quinn shook her head. "I would have come much sooner. And without my mother."

Rachel's eyes met Quinn's honest gaze, and couldn't contain the smile that threatened to break her cheeks.

"Really?"

"Really."

The crowd around them was slowly leaving the building, but Rachel didn't really notice. Quinn Fabray would have voluntarily seen her show. Without her mother. Her heart swelled.

"It's really nice to see you again," Rachel admitted with a shy grin.

Quinn's eyes seemed to sparkle. "I must say, this whole thing is very serendipitous."

Rachel giggled. "Careful, Fabray, you're starting to sound like me."

That earned her the classic Fabray eyeroll. This was nice. It was certainly unexpected, but Rachel wasn't about to end it. Quinn was different. It showed in her eyes, the way they drank her in. It showed in her smile, in her stance. 

This wasn't the Quinn she had once known.

"So what have you been up to since-,"

"I don't want to catch up here," Quinn interrupted.

Rachel blinked. "Why not?"

Quinn grinned. "Well, you owe me a long story, correct? And long stories, by definition, require an extended period of time to tell." She took a shaky breath. "Come with me to Breadsticks tonight. I know I owe you so much more than dinner, but it's a start."

Rachel was stunned into silence. Quinn looked at her expectantly, her heart in her throat pounding away. Her finger shot up to her mouth, but she quickly shoved it into her pocket.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Quinn asked.

"Okay," Rachel breathed.


	4. Chapter 4

"Quinn Fabray? From high school, Quinn Fabray?"

"Yes, Dad," Rachel said quietly, glancing over to where her ex-nemesis was standing. "She offered to take me out to dinner tonight, and I'm going to give her a chance."

Her father sighed, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.

"Well, if you trust her than I trust her. Just, be careful, sweetheart. Daddy and I will be waiting for you at home."

Hiram Berry kissed his daughter on the cheek before pulling her into a tight hug. After he gave her her coat, Rachel, in return, gave him a signature Berry smile and walked back over to Quinn and her mother, who were huddled close to each other whispering about.

Their voices were low and tense.

Rachel cleared her throat. Their conversation came to a halt.

"Rachel," Quinn said with a tight smile, pulling her mother closer to her, "Mother, this is Rachel Berry. We went to McKinely together."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Berry. You were fantastic in tonight's performance. You were born to do this. Broadway better be ready for you. They won't know what hit them," Judy gushed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Fabray," Rachel replied humbly, "although I hardly believe Broadway will take me, but those words mean so much to me."

Quinn's jaw dropped to the floor. Rachel met her confused gaze.

"Is there something wrong?" Rachel asked politely.

"No, uh, nothing's wrong," Quinn stammered, "Mother, I was wondering if Rachel might accompany me to dinner tonight? I know that you have a special dinner tomorrow night with Daddy. You really need your beauty rest before the big night."

Judy looked from her daughter to Rachel, their eyes trained on each other. She nodded, buttoning her coat up to her neck.

"Right, Quinnie. I do need my rest. Do you need my car?"

"That's alright, Mrs. Fabray. We can take mine, as I assume you need yours to get home. I'll have Quinn home safely, I promise."

Judy smiled, before quirking an eyebrow at her now-blushing daughter.

"How kind of you! Thank you, Rachel. You two have fun now," she said, pulling Quinn into her side. "This does not mean you have gotten out of our mother-daughter dinner. You owe me," she whispered into Quinn's ear.

Judy released Quinn, smiled brightly at the pair, walking out of empty lobby into the cold winter night.

Quinn looked to Rachel whose eyes were trailing after her mother.

"Shall we?" she prompted, pulling Rachel out of her stare.

"Oh, yes! Let's go! My car is in the cast/crew parking lot. I just need to get my lipstick from my dressing room. Follow me," Rachel said cheerfully, her nerves threatening to burst through her cheery façade.

The two walked side by side down the deserted backstage hallway. The entire cast and crew had already left.

When they arrived at Rachel's dressing room, Quinn was surprised the door to see a rather plain looking sheet of paper that read Rachel Berry in Times New Roman font instead of a big gold star with her name in flashing lights.

Rachel held the door open for her guest

"Well, here it is. It isn't much but it's where I've been living for the past few months."

Quinn scanned the room.

There was an armchair in the corner of the room with a few costumes draped over the side. On the make up table were a few framed photographs. One was of Rachel and her fathers in a park of some sort. Another was of the entire cast on opening night it appeared. The final was of the Glee Club, the first year they had won Sectionals.

Quinn eyes hung on the light pink frame. Her younger self was grinning despite her swelling stomach underneath her coral dress. Kurt had his hand on Rachel's shoulder. Mr. Schuester was beaming with pride while Santana and Brittany were smiling brightly, shoulders touching just barely. Artie was positioned in the middle with his adorable sweater vest, while Finn never looked more at peace.

Then there was Rachel, dressed in her classic penny loafers and knee high socks. She had a sinfully short purple skirt along with a purple sweater vest. Her brown hair fell in waves. She wore no make up but rather the brightest and purest smile Quinn had ever seen.

They were all so happy back then. Quinn hadn't smiled like that in a long time.

"You like that one?"

Quinn stood back up and looked at Rachel.

"I think that was the happiest moment of my life," Quinn whispered.

"Me too," Rachel breathed in agreement.

Their eyes met for a moment. Quinn's heart sped up.

No one had ever looked at her like that. Not even her parents gave her a look like that. How was it possible that the girl she bullied for two years could still look at her like that?

"We should get going," Quinn said, clearing her throat as she walked over to the door.

Rachel nodded and shoved the lipstick they had come to retrieve into her coat pocket. Quinn propped open the door.

Rachel blushed and walked out into the hallway, leaving the scent of vanilla in her wake, a wave of heaven crashing over the blonde.

"Quinn? Are you coming?"

Quinn blinked, letting a small smile dance across her lips.

"Yeah," she said, closing the door behind her.

They walked to the car in silence, the uncomfortable kind. Once they reached the car, Quinn opened the door for Rachel and proceeded to her own seat, earning her another pair of flushed cheeks.

Rachel started up the car, blasting the heat, and buckled herself in tightly. As she put on hand on the cold wheel, she turned the radio on and the sounds of Florence and the Machine filled the car.

"I love this song," Quinn remarked as she gazed out the window.

Rachel smiled.

"Me too. It is amazing what kind of music you discover after you leave the Broadway bubble."

They let the music fill the silence and the heat warm their frigid bodies. Winter in Ohio was brutal, and it was only the third week in November.

"Hey, Quinn?"

Quinn pulled her attention from the window to the girl driving the small Volkswagen.

"Hey, Rachel?" she teased lightly.

Rachel's heart skipped at the sound of her name coming from that voice.

"You've really changed, haven't you?"

"I would hope so."

Rachel giggled softly, keeping her eyes on the road.

The rest of the ride was spent in a comfortable silence, neither really wanting to talk about anything just yet.

Then the car came to a halt, causing Quinn's eyes to snap open. Rachel was staring at her with a smile threatening to break her face.

"What?" Quinn asked.

"N-nothing," Rachel stuttered, "you just fell asleep. I had no idea I was so boring."

"Rachel," Quinn started, unbuckling her seat belt, "you're not boring me. I'm just tired that's all."

Rachel nodded, letting that obvious lie slide. She got out of the car, pulled her gloves tighter onto her small hands, and walked over to open Quinn's door.

"Thank you," Quinn whispered into the cold air.

They walked into the restaurant and were overwhelmed by the sudden warmth. A young waiter came up to them asking how many were dining that evening.

"Table for two, please," Rachel answered.

The man nodded, grabbed two menus and guided them over to their table in the back of the room. They took off their coats and gloves and sat down.

"I'll give you a chance to look at the menus," he said and left the two in silence.

Quinn looked up from her menu to find Rachel buried in hers.

"So, see anything you like?" Quinn asked nervously.

"Well, to be honest, the menu hasn't changed since high school. I'll just have some spaghetti, sans meatballs."

"Still a vegan then?"

"Of course! I assume you aren't."

Quinn shook her head.

"As much as I believe it is a noble cause, I cannot give up my bacon. Does that make me a bad person?"

Rachel laughed, "No, Quinn, it does not make you a bad person. It makes you human."

Quinn smiled. This was kind of… nice.

After the waiter returned and took their orders, Quinn took a sip of her water.

"So, this long story of yours, let's hear it."

Rachel's eyes widened.

"I didn't think you actually meant you wanted to hear it. I thought you simply wanted to get out of having dinner with your mother," Rachel admitted.

Quinn rolled her eyes playfully.

"Of course I want to hear it. I mean yeah, my mother can be a bit of a nuisance, but I want to know what you're doing here. I always pictured you…"

"On Broadway?" Rachel asked, her eyes dropping.

Quinn nodded shyly, "You know, my mother wasn't lying when she said they'd be lucky to have you."

Rachel blushed and shook her head.

"No, they wouldn't be."

Quinn practically choked on her drink.

"Now I really want to hear this story."

And she did.

Quinn wanted to know what asshole convinced Rachel Berry that she was not good enough for Broadway.

Rachel looked at Quinn deeply, her eyes harboring year's worth of pain and heartbreak.

Quinn Fabray had spent her entire high school career trying to break Rachel Berry.

Now that she saw that Rachel really was broken, Quinn just wanted to put her back together.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?" Rachel asked.

Quinn returned the gaze with a look of newfound determination.

"Yes, Rachel. I'm sure."


	5. Chapter 5

"Well, where should I start?"

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Don't make this longer than it has to be, Rachel."

Rachel blushed and decided to be completely honest, no antics.

"Well, senior year I applied to a bunch of different schools. My heart was set on Julliard though. I had to do all types of preparation for the audition. I had to send a tape of myself both acting and singing as well as write a very elaborate essay on why I love music. It did not seem too difficult and it wasn't. My fathers helped me with the song choice and recording of the video. It seemed too easy but when I sent out my application and tape I felt confident in myself.

A few months later, a letter came in the mail from Julliard. And, you know that feeling when you get mail, those butterflies you get in your stomach?"

Quinn nodded.

"Well," Rachel continued, "I had them. I knew I was going to get in. It was inevitable. Everyone knew that, but when I opened the envelope, it wasn't an acceptance letter. It was a rejection letter."

Quinn's breath caught at the sound of the pain in Rachel's voice.

"I-I had no idea," Quinn admitted.

"That was the point. I didn't tell anyone. I was too embarrassed," Rachel explained. "The next week NYU declined me as well. I would be lying if I said I wasn't upset. I was more than upset. I felt like there was no hope for me to ever make it in New York. My fathers kept telling me it wasn't the end of the world, and it wasn't, but it was the end of _my_ word. One letter destroyed everything. So, I stopped trying in Glee Club. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. Somehow I got into Columbia. I went and majored in music, minored in theater. The rest of senior year flew by, and before I could process anything I was on a plane with my fathers going to New York." 

Rachel paused for a moment, picking at her fingers and unable to meet Quinn's attentive gaze.

"Finn and I broke up. I knew- we knew that we couldn't handle the distance."

"Did you love him?" Quinn interrupted, her voice soft, vulnerable.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, not the way I wished I could. It would have been easier if I did."

Quinn nodded. She knew all to well the feeling of loving someone because it was easier.

"And then what happened, once you go to New York?" Quinn prompted.

Rachel took a deep breath.

"New York was incredible," she said with a sad smile, "I loved it. The first week I did everything. I saw the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Central Park, ate cupcakes at Magnolias. Kurt and I explored the city together and learned our way around. It's enormous, Quinn. I felt so overwhelmed by it all. But, the best thing about New York though wasn't the sights or the food or something trivial. It was the people. I felt like I could be myself there without the fear of being slushied or bullied."

Quinn's gaze dropped to her hands, her guilt engraved on her porcelain skin.

"I enjoyed college a lot," Rachel continued. "I was taking classes I wanted to take, and I felt myself growing up. I ditched the argyle and animal sweaters for a more modern look and became Rachel Berry: College Student. It was thrilling, kind of like a fresh start. No one knew me and that was the best part."

"What happened after college?" Quinn asked.

Rachel sighed and took a quick sip of her water.

"I began to audition nonstop. We are talking three a month. I started out small with off Broadway productions, thinking that I would master those and then move on to bigger and better things, but I was wrong. No one wanted me."

Quinn's heart broke. No one wanted her? Were they blind? More importantly, were they deaf?

"I'm sure someone-,"

"No, Quinn," Rachel snapped. "No one."

Quinn was silent.

"I kept pursuing roles and continued being rejected. I did get one role, a small extra role in a production of _Hair_ off Broadway. To be honest, that was the worst experience of my life. I began to get impatient so I decided to try my luck and audition for a Broadway show. Somehow I managed to get an audition and studied as if the audition would decide if I lived or died. I spent all night memorizing my lines and all day practicing my song. It had to be perfect.

"I walked into the theater and saw a line of about thirty-five other girls. It was intimidating but I couldn't let my nerves get to me. I watched each girl go up onto the stage, belt their hearts out and act as best as they could. With each girl my nerves grew. They were all so tall, and lean and beautiful. I felt my chances lowering with each minute. Finally, it was my turn. I was the last to go. I sang On My Own, my favorite Broadway song, and for a few minutes, as I was singing, my nerves went away, as they always do when I perform. The minute I opened my eyes and looked at the panel of producers looking my way, I almost vomited. I waited a week before I received a phone call from the producer."

Quinn was hanging on Rachel's every word. The waiter had come with their food, but she hadn't even noticed.

"Well?" Quinn asked, the anticipation killing her with each moment of silence.

"I didn't get the part."

"Well, you should have," Quinn whispered.

Rachel's head snapped up.

Quinn's eyes avoided the bewildered brown ones staring at her. The compliment wasn't supposed to leave her mind, but she meant it either way.

"Sorry, I-," she began but Rachel placed her hand hers, causing Quinn to fall instantly silent.

"Thank you," Rachel whispered.

Rachel's warm palm burned through her skin.

"Is there something wrong with your meal?"

Quinn's hand shot back into her lap.

"No, everything's fine. Thank you," Quinn said, thankful and somewhat annoyed at the man's interruption.

Quinn rubbed her hand, still feeling the warmth from Rachel's hand.

Rachel cleared her throat and Quinn looked up, a blush pervading her skin.

"So, what happened after you didn't get the part?" Quinn asked, trying to simultaneously erase and preserve the memory of Rachel's soft skin on hers.

"Uh, well I was crushed. I called my fathers and cried. I decided I was done with New York. It was too painful to stay there anymore, so I moved back home with my fathers and got a job here at the theater. I got all of the leads I auditioned for. And I guess that is where my story ends."

Quinn gaped at the girl in front of her.

"So you just gave up?"

"Yeah, I guess I did," Rachel said, defeated.

"Are you serious?"

"Why is that so hard to believe? They didn't want me."

"It is so hard to believe because the Rachel Berry I knew never gave up," Quinn snapped.

Quinn's cheeks flushed with anger. Rachel was taken aback.

"I had no idea you felt so strongly about this."

Quinn sighed, trying to compose herself in vain.

"You never used to let people, especially me, get to you. What makes this any different then me being a total bitch to you?"

"I don't know," Rachel admitted quietly.

"Exactly. Rachel, this is no different. Don't let anyone tell you are not good enough."

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"This is quite odd coming from the girl that spent four years drilling that into my brain."

Quinn didn't get defensive or upset like Rachel had expected. Quinn simply nodded and looked down at her hands.

When her gaze finally met Rachel's, her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"Why did you do it?" Rachel asked, trying to hide the fear in her voice.

Quinn was silent. There was no turning back now.

"Quinn, why did you do it? Do you even realize how much you hurt me? Because I was affected by it, I am just an incredibly good actor. You hated me with every fiber of your being. I don't believe that you can all of a sudden say that I am talented after the hell you put me through. What the hell happened? What the hell changed?"

"I never hated you," Quinn breathed, a tear streaking down her cheek.

Rachel was fuming.

"No, you don't get to act like you are the victim here, Quinn. You don't get to cry. You don't get to feel sorry for yourself because you were a bitch to me. I am the victim here. I should be pissed. I should want to rip your head off right now. Why the hell did you do all of those things to me if you never even hated me? Is that your sick way of having a good time? Was that fun for you? Oh, hm I'm bored. Let's go torture Rachel, that'll be fun."

Rachel's blood was boiling. All of the anger she had so expertly repressed suddenly unleashed itself, and Rachel watched as Quinn drowned in her guilt.

Quinn wiped her tears away viciously with her free hand, the other clutching her stomach as if she was about to vomit.

"You're right," was all she could choke out.

Quinn bolted to the restroom, bursting through the door and falling onto to her knees as she grabbed onto the toilet, her knuckles turning white. Her insides were on fire as she vomited her breakfast.

Barely able to move, she leaned against the cold porcelain and buried her face into her hands. Rachel hated her. Of course she hated her. She had every right and -

"Quinn?"

The room was silent save for her breathing and she stared at the doorknob as it slowly unturned. The door opened. Quinn began to wipe her mouth and face, trying desperately to conceal her tears.

Rachel stared at the girl on the definitely unsanitary floor.

Her face was pale and her lips were dry and cracking. It was obvious she had been crying and there was vomit in the toilet.

"You are pathetic," Rachel spit out venomously.

"I know," Quinn croaked.

"Oh shut up!" Rachel yelled.

Quinn's eyes were wide now, the nausea returning to her stomach.

"Look, I don't know why you even invited me here, but this isn't fair. You cannot make me guilty for everything _you_ put me through. You are not a victim, Quinn. _I_ am."

"Rachel, please forgive me?" Quinn begged, her voice cracking and her head spinning.

Rachel couldn't bear to see Quinn so hurt. She felt the need to pull Quinn into her arms and wipe her tears, but at the same time, what about her dignity? If she forgave Quinn she'd look even more pathetic.

"No," she said defiantly. "Quinn, I cannot forgive you like this. We haven't seen each other in seven years. We talked for about one hour and you expect me to just cave and forgive you? Sorry, you're going to have to give it a little more effort and stop feeling sorry for yourself. Once you can get over yourself then maybe I will consider forgiving you, but not like this."


	6. Chapter 6

"Quinnie, can you please pass the ham?"

Quinn's head snapped up from the plate she had been staring at for the better half of an hour.

She nodded obediently, passing her father the ham her mother had "cooked" for the evening, which was actually a processed ham from Walmart. Some things would never change.

It was Friday night, and the table was silent save for the scraping of their forks across their plates. The family sat in the Fabray's dining room; a room Quinn had spent her entire childhood and most of her teen years eating in. The table was covered in her grandmother's cherished tablecloth and their best china. There was not one stain on it for her parents guarded it with their lives. One stain guaranteed the belt. Quinn shivered.

"Sam, how's work these days?" her father asked curiously.

Sam swallowed a huge mouthful of food.

"Good, sir. Things are going well at the bank, so don't you worry, sir, I'm taking care of the both of us just fine," he said proudly.

Sam had given up his dream of football and music and settled for working at H.W. Manken, Lima's biggest bank. Quinn likened it to selling his soul to the greedy pigs that worked there.

The bank had changed Sam. No longer did he serenade her with his guitar when they sat by the fire on cold winter nights. He rarely smiled the smile she had thought she had fallen for in her junior year of high school. Conversations of Avatar and astronomy came to a screeching halt once he bought his first suit and went off to work at the bank.

"I wasn't asking if you were taking care of my Quinnie, boy," his father said condescendingly.

Sam looked down to his plate, quickly occupying himself with playing with his peas like a child after being scolded by his father.

"Quinnie, you haven't eaten a thing!" her mother exclaimed as she looked to her daughter's full plate.

Quinn hadn't felt like eating in days. Rachel had taken her appetite, as well as her dignity, away from her that night at Breadsticks. Throughout the week, while Sam was at the bank, Quinn had been sneaking out to watch a few matinées of _Rent_; with each performance, each heart-wrenchingly beautiful performance, Quinn's guilt grew to the point of constant nausea.

Judy dropped her fork onto her plate suddenly as she covered her mouth with her hands in shock.

"Judy?" her father asked, feigning concern rather poorly.

Judy pointed at Quinn and began to slightly hyperventilate.

"Mom?"

"Quinnie, are… are you pregnant?" Judy managed to choke out.

Quinn rolled her eyes at her mother from across the table. Of course now that she was married and had an acceptable husband that did not sport a black Mohawk her mother wanted grandchildren.

"No, Mom, I'm not pregnant," Quinn replied coolly.

She heard her mother release a huge breath of air.

"Oh," she sighed.

Quinn scoffed at her mother and was about to excuse herself when her father asked a rather curious question.

"Sam, you two are… active correct? I am eager to get myself a little grandson some time soon."

Quinn and Sam hadn't had sex in about two months. Their last time had ended with Quinn suddenly crying and running to the bathroom to mourn the feelings she should have felt while her husband made love to her.

"Yes, sir," he lied confidently as he pulled Quinn closer to him.

Quinn put on her classic fake Fabray smile and nodded in unison.

"We're trying, Daddy. I would like nothing more than to give you a little grandson."

Russell nodded with approval.

"Oh, Quinnie," her father added, "It has been brought to my attention that you have been going to that poor community theater quite frequently this week. I would love to hear of the show that has caused my daughter to ignore her family to watch mediocre wannabe actors sing show tunes for two hours in a deteriorating theater."

Quinn froze. How could her father possibly know that?

"Uhm, well they're putting on the show Rent. It's really good, Daddy you should see it sometime. The music is lovely. Do you have a problem with me going to see a play that I enjoy?" she replied with a small hint of venom in her otherwise composed tone.

Russell kept his poker face as his face contorted into what she likened to the Grinch's evil grin.

"I don't have a problem with that, my dear. I have a problem with you ignoring your poor mother to go out to dinner with that girl from your school. You know the girl I'm taking about. Her fathers are the laughing stock of the town, and for good reason. Oh come on, Quinnie, you must remember her. I believe she is in that show you are so obsessed with these days."

Quinn's jaw dropped to the floor. She turned to face her mother who mouthed an apology. Of course Judy had told him.

"Yes, Daddy. We had dinner together," Quinn said, her voice laced with fear.

"I don't like you associating yourself with people like her."

If Quinn wasn't upset before she was infuriated now.

"People like what?" she roared.

He grinned at her lack of control. Had she learned anything from her father?

"She is not a good influence on you, Quinnie. Her fathers are a disgrace and by association so is she. I do not want you to speak with her again or to desert your mother to hang with those faggots' daughter."

Quinn's blood was boiling. She clenched her fists at her side, willing herself not to lunge over the table and stab her father with a butter knife.

"Don't talk about her like that. You don't know her," she spat.

This was different than her father badmouthing the town hippies or those damn liberals or Obama in politics. No, this was much different.

Rachel was different.

"And you do know her? Please enlighten me," Russell asked sardonically.

She swallowed thickly. He had a point there. Quinn pulled her chair out and turned to leave.

"I know her a lot better than you ever will."

Her father's face was suddenly a shade redder, much like a crimson beet, and he stood up immediately.

"That is no way to speak to your father, young lady. Apologize to your father."

It was never a good side when her father lectured her in the third person.

"I'm going for a walk," Quinn announced to the table.

Her father was fuming as he watched his daughter leave the room, letting her off in favor of a quiet evening with his wife.

"Judy, can you pass the ham?"

Quinn walked out of the dining room irate. As quickly as she could she grabbed her coat and left the house. She was still seeing red but the instant she was out into the fresh air her body relaxed. The cool air washed over her, putting out the raging fire her father had ignited.

Her family was toxic, always seconds from falling apart, yet always in control.

It seemed like her life had been written in stone before she could even think for herself. Quinn never had a say in anything that happened to her, but at the same time, she didn't have the guts to do anything about it.

Rachel did. Rachel had the courage to stand up for what was right. She always did.

And Quinn always envied her for her zeal for justice and being true to who she was. It was this jealously that motivated every slushy, every insult hurled at the bold brunette. Quinn was a scared little girl being strung along by her parents, a puppet in their play.

Now it was time to cut the strings.

Rachel was right. It was time to quit being the victim, quit being a puppet and write her own play. Quinn was going to fight back for once.

Quinn halted at the thought, her chest heaving in and out after she had all but sprinted through the empty streets of Lima.

Her feet had somehow brought her here, to Berry's house. There was a plethora of Christmas lights draped carefully and meticulously over the house, as well as a menorah in the window. Each window had a candle in it, and in the front yard Quinn could tell that, despite her age, Rachel and her parents had had a snowball fight.

A cold wind rushed past her. Quinn pulled her coat tighter to her body. She decided that standing in front of Rachel's house, staring at it from a distance was probably creeping, but as she turned around to walk back home, a voice caused her pause.

"Quinn?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Quinn?"

The blonde's face froze as she stared at the person calling to her. Was that…

"Mr. Berry?" she asked, her voice suddenly hoarse.

The tall man walked outside into the cold, closing the door behind him. Quinn stood still as she watched him walk towards her, hands shoved deep inside of her jacket's pockets. Her mind was still processing the fact that he had remembered her.

"Quinn, what are you doing outside at this hour? You must be freezing!"

A look of true concern was etched into the man's face.

"Uhm, I was just taking a walk, Mr. Berry. I'm sorry to have disturbed you."

He smiled warmly and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Call me Leroy. Mr. Berry is my father. Why don't you come inside? I can't imagine how cold you must be, and Rachel and I just made a batch of cookies if you'd like to join us."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," she said, her eyes now focused on the snow-covered pathway.

Quinn didn't deserve his hospitality, especially after everything she had done to Rachel.

"And why isn't it a good idea?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"Rachel and I aren't exactly on good terms," she began but was hushed by Leroy's confident voice.

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Quinn. My Rachel is a very forgiving young woman. I'm sure you two will work it out. She is quite fond of you, you know, and I know you are… quite fond of her. I've seen you come to her shows. It's very kind of you. Now, come inside before we both develop acute hypothermia."

He extended a hand. Quinn took it hesitantly. Leroy pulled her inside and took her jacket off. The smell of cinnamon wafted in the air, and Quinn's stomach growled.

For the first time this week, she felt hungry. She blushed at the noise emanating from her stomach.

"Leroy?" a smaller man peering through the doorway of the kitchen asked.

Leroy smiled at the sight of his husband and pulled Quinn closer to him.

"Hiram, this is Quinn Fabray. She was walking outside, and I just couldn't let her stand outside in that nasty weather."

Hiram walked over to the pair, looking at Quinn skeptically. She waited for him to realize who she was. She waited for them to kick her out. It finally clicked and the look of hesitation dissolved from his face and evolved into a much harder one.

"Quinn Fabray?" he asked cooly.

"She went to school with Rachel. I met her at the show last weekend," Leroy replied with a shaky smile.

Hiram glared at Quinn.

"Of course I remember you, Quinn. Leroy, can I speak with you for a moment?"

The taller man nodded and left Quinn alone in the living room. She heard them talking in hushed tones but couldn't pick out what they were saying.

Her eyes gazed over the room, really seeing the house for the first time. She had been there once or twice before when Rachel had insisted upon the Glee club bonding. They had had a movie night. It was a disaster because Puck chose a scary movie that caused Kurt to cry and caused Mercedes to be incredibly pissed off. Then, over the summer going into her junior year, Rachel had had a pool party, which went well aside from Puck hurling Quinn into the pool with her clothes on.

The fireplace mantel was decorated with garland and little white lights. A menorah sat on a table by the bay window next to a long worn-out couch. There were books scattered on the coffee table, a few medical ones and a few autobiographies of famous actors.

Pictures of Rachel and her fathers decorated the peach colored walls. As she walked through the living room, Quinn traveled along the course of Rachel's life. She saw her birth, her first dance recital, and her first time riding a bike, her first singing lesson, and her family on a vacation when she was seven.

It was so normal.

Rachel was smiling brightly in every single picture, her pearly white teeth never failing to sparkle. It was remarkable how much Rachel had changed since high school.

Quinn stopped at a picture of the glee club from junior year. They had made it to Nationals that year, and the photo was taken five minutes before their performance. All of the kids were dressed in matching blue dresses and suits picked out by Kurt and Mercedes of course.

Quinn looked at herself in the photograph. She was smiling, but not at the camera. Rachel was standing next to her, her long brown locks pulled back by the white headband Tina had insisted upon Rachel wearing. The blonde was smiling at the girl who had made the entire group possible, the girl who carried them and told them they could win when all of them believed otherwise.

Quinn didn't even remember the photo being taken, yet there it was clear as day. She wore a smile that reached her hazel eyes, a smile she hadn't smiled since the night she saw Rachel perform in Rent for the first time.

"I remember that night," a voice said from behind.

Quinn whipped around and met the gaze of the girl in the photograph. Rachel was smiling weakly and took the frame into her hands.

"Do you remember it, Quinn?"

Quinn did remember that night. Cloud nine was an understatement. It was her first time in New York. It was the first time she felt at home. It was the week she had decided she wanted to go to school there.

"I don't remember taking that picture," she whispered.

Rachel nodded as her thumb traced over the dark brown frame.

"You want to know what I remember, Quinn?"

Quinn could only shake her head. Rachel sighed and gazed into the frame.

"I felt on top of the world that night, but not because of the fact that we were in New York, or the fact that we were about to perform the biggest show of our lives. It was because of what someone had given to me before this picture was taken. I was nervous, which is out of character for me because I never get nervous. That night I was panicking. We were in New York, and, for the first time, I doubted my abilities. I was in the dressing room looking out the window at the city. I heard someone come into the room, but I didn't turn around. I figured it was Tina or Mercedes. When I turned around they were gone and on my desk was a bouquet of baby's breath and red roses. Inside of the bouquet was a small card with a note on it. It said, 'you are incredible, Rachel Barbara Berry. Don't let anyone stop you from believing it. You will be here again, one day, showing the world just how talented you truly are. Break a leg.' It was signed with a heart, and suddenly I didn't feel so nervous anymore. Then I guess this picture was taken. I haven't really looked at it in a long time though. It seems like forever ago."

Quinn suddenly remembered that night more clearly than ever.

"It was forever ago," she said softly and finally decided to meet Rachel's eyes.

They were glassed over with a layer of tears.

"Why are you here, Quinn?"

Quinn sighed. It was a very good question.

"I was at my parents' house for dinner, and I can only take a certain amount of time with them otherwise I'll explode so I took a walk. Have you ever taken walks alone at night here, Rachel? It's so quiet and empty that it makes you feel like you are the only one left on the planet. I guess I didn't realize where my feet had taken me because when I finally stopped I was standing in front of your house. Nice decorations, by the way."

"Why thank you! I picked them out with Daddy a few years ago and before leaving the store made sure that each and every bulb functioned properly. The store clerk was not pleased, but you can never be too thorough," she said rather bubbly, forgetting temporarily that she was mad at Quinn.

Quinn giggled softly. Only Rachel would do something like that.

"Why did you need to leave your parents' house?"

Quinn's giggling ceased.

"My family can be…well, my family."

"I've never met them," Rachel said absentmindedly.

"I never want you to meet them," Quinn snapped.

Rachel's eyes became fearful, and Quinn regretted losing her temper, but it was true. She never wanted Rachel to meet her horrible family. Then she thought of her father's words.

_Do you know her?_

Quinn Fabray didn't know Rachel Berry, but she wanted to know her.

Something was holding her back. Maybe it was the words her father had spoken, or the way his face had hardened at the mention of Rachel's name. Maybe it was because all of her life she was taught to hate Rachel blindly. Maybe it was because she was a coward and pathetic like Rachel had said that night at Breadsticks

"I should go. I'm sorry I bothered you."

She turned away but stopped at the sound of Rachel's small voice.

"Don't leave."

Quinn faced Rachel with a look of pure confusion on her face.

"Why? Don't you hate me?"

Rachel shook her head and stood up to meet Quinn.

"I never said I hated you."

"You should," Quinn whispered.

Rachel nodded.

"I should."

Then, before the girls could continue, Rachel's parents walked in, hand in hand, Leroy smiling at both girls with a tray of cookies in his free hand. The tension immediately diffused as the smell of cinnamon and peanut butter spread throughout the living room.

"Would you girls like some cookies?"

"I really should get going my parents are probably…" she began but couldn't finish the sentence, her eyes avoiding Rachel's once again.

"I insist, Quinn. Trust me, you will want them. They are Leroy's special peanut butter cookies. Seriously, they are impossible to resist," Hiram said.

Quinn looked over to Rachel for her approval.

"You know, I was actually going to invite Quinn upstairs to my room. We'll call you if we need anything. Thank you, Daddy," she said politely and nodded for Quinn to follow her.

Quinn was shocked. Leroy nodded and smiled as Quinn followed Rachel, shrugging off her snow boots at the door. The carpet felt so soft against her feet. At the top of the stairs Rachel turned to the right towards a blank white door. As Quinn got closer to the door, she saw that the faded outline of what probably was a gold star

Rachel opened the door and stood awkwardly in the center. Quinn froze in shock. It was nothing like she had remembered.

When she had first seen it, the walls were a bright pink, the carpet an even brighter green. The walls were covered in Broadway posters. Her desk had a bedazzled boom box on top of it along with several soundtracks. The only two things that hadn't changed were the bed and the elliptical sitting in the corner of her room.

The walls were now a pale blue, the carpet an unexciting beige with a lonely bulletin board hanging above her bed. She saw more recent pictures pinned to the board, probably from her college years, none from her childhood or teen years.

"What happened to your room? Where did all of the posters go?" she asked curiously.

"I had to make room for my bulletin board and pink is out of season," Rachel automatically responded.

"You remember what my room used to look like?" Rachel asked meekly.

Quinn smiled.

"Of course I do. I had to change in here that day you had a pool party because San and Britt were using your bathroom and taking forever. It really has changed."

"I've changed," Rachel said quietly, her arms suddenly wrapped around herself protectively.

Quinn sighed and sat down on the bed next to Rachel, suddenly feeling a bit more confident. It was strange how similar she felt to Rachel.

"You know, I've changed too, Rachel, a lot. I'm not that mean girl in the cheerleading uniform anymore."

Rachel nodded, but her arms remained over her chest. Quinn decided to take a chance.

"Listen, I know you don't trust me, but I-I want to be your friend. I want to start over. Remember when I was pregnant and you offered your friendship to me the day Finn dumped me? Well, I want to take you up on that offer, if it still stands."

"I don't know," Rachel whispered, her voice bare and honest.

This was what Rachel had always wanted. In high school she had seen Quinn strut down the halls confident and proud. She'd watch from behind her locker in awe of her confidence. When they were children, she had wanted to be friends with the young blonde but never mustered up the courage to ask. Then when she finally gained some confidence, Quinn had rejected her before she had even asked.

No, she didn't trust Quinn Fabray, but that didn't mean she didn't want to try.

"I won't hurt you," Quinn said softly.

Rachel got up suddenly and walked to the walls and ran her hands down the bare surface where she had once had Idina Menzel and Kristen Chenoweth staring back at her.

"When I came back home to this room, it was all too much. I saw all of my knickknacks and pictures and posters. I remembered singing into that mirror, hoping, dreaming of becoming a star. I remember putting up a poster on my wall as I ran on that elliptical every morning that had a saying that cheered me on. I never really dreamed of becoming a star. I always thought it was set in stone, that it would just happen. I was sixteen, arrogant, and it seemed like nothing could stop me; but when I came back in here and saw all of my posters and the pink it was like everything was the same as before I left; but it isn't the same. I couldn't do it. I couldn't live in the room I had spent my life hoping in vain for fame. So I repainted the walls and tore the posters off of my wall, shoved all of the Broadway into a box, and threw them into my closet."

"It was one audition," Quinn argued, "I stand by what I said. You shouldn't give up because one person told you no. In school, everyone told you no and you didn't care."

"That's because those people didn't matter to me. I thought I would never see them again, especially you, Quinn. Once I left, none of those people would matter. All of the slushies and names wouldn't matter in New York. I thought I'd just leave them and Lima behind, and my life would be perfect. I was wrong."

"I'm sorry," Quinn breathed.

"I know you are Quinn. I've been thinking about what I said to you at Breadsticks. I don't know you, Quinn. I had no right to say what I said. I was just upset because I just admitted to you that I was a failure. I figured that was what you wanted and it was hard to see that the girl, who you had idolized in school, even though she hated you, had failed too. I thought you would get out of here."

"You thought I wanted you to fail?"

Rachel nodded.

"No, Rachel. I never wanted you to fail. That was just me being jealous because I _knew_ you would get out. I knew that you would escape this hellhole, and I'd be stuck here forever."

Rachel gaped at the girl sitting next to her.

"You really thought that?" Rachel asked with disbelief.

"Yeah, Rachel. I really did. I guess both of our lives didn't go as planned, huh?"

Rachel sighed and nodded.

"I guess not."

The two sat there for a while, wallowing in the silence, and mourning for what could have been. Suddenly, Rachel stood up and extended her hand towards the sulking blonde.

"My offer still stands," she said defiantly.

Quinn's jaw dropped. "What?" she asked.

Rachel smiled. Her hand was still extended.

"Hello, blonde girl I have never met before. I am Rachel Berry. It is a pleasure meeting you here on this fine winter's eve."

Quinn beamed and took her hand to shake it gently.

"Quinn Fabray. It is nice to meet you too, Rachel. It is so nice to_ finally_ meet you."


	8. Chapter 8

Quinn Fabray sat on her bed staring down at her cell phone. It had been one day since she had gone to the Berry's. Leroy had insisted that Quinn take home a platter of cookies for her parents. She remembered how Rachel had smiled at her push over of a father as he shoved the plate into the blonde's hands.

-/-

"Thank you Leroy," Quinn said as she held the heavy plate in her hands.

The man smiled and pulled his husband closer into his body. Hiram still did not approve of Quinn. Quinn understood. If it had been her daughter, she would not have let herself into the house.

Rachel was standing by the door, her arms crossed over her chest and her lip caught between her teeth. Leroy pulled Quinn into a quick but warm hug. Hiram merely let a small smile emerge as he watched his husband open the door.

A cool breeze whizzed past the family. Quinn pulled her jacket closer to her body and looked over to Rachel. Their eyes met and Quinn's heart began to race. Rachel smiled shyly and walked over to Quinn.

"Daddy, do you think it would be alright if I walked Quinn home? It is freezing out, and I don't think it is safe for her to be walking alone at this hour of night."

Hiram looked hesitant but Leroy approved the request instantly.

"I think that is more than alright, sweetheart. Be careful," he said and kissed Rachel on the head.

Rachel beamed and grabbed her jacket from the coat closet. She chose a black winter coat and a pair of white gloves. Before she began to leave, Leroy insisted she wear a hat and Rachel rolled her eyes as he put it on for her.

Quinn held the door open for Rachel who blushed, unbeknownst to the blonde, at the gesture. They walked down the icy pathway together, Quinn still behind Rachel, and into the cold. The sky was clear, the stars shining brightly. It really was the perfect night for a walk. Quinn moved next to Rachel, and the two walked in silence. Quinn was the first to break the ice.

"I never realized how close we lived," she said softly.

Rachel nodded, her head facing forward.

"Me neither," the Rachel lied.

Rachel was more than aware of where Quinn lived. When she was in elementary school, she used to ride her bike up and down Quinn's street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young girl with the pretty blonde hair.

This was before she knew of the hatred the Fabray family had towards her family. This was before being popular mattered to Quinn. This was before things were complicated.

Seven-year-old Rachel had seen Quinn in school and had wanted so desperately to be friends. Quinn was quiet, but even at the age of seven she had a power over everyone she spoke to. Santana and Brittany were her best friends; everyone knew that, so Rachel was more than intimidated.

Once when she was ten, Rachel had been lucky and saw Quinn looking outside of her window. It looked like she was in a study of some sort because Rachel saw a bookshelf behind her. Her eyes were heavy and infected with sadness that Rachel had wanted so much to cure. A tear, one tear, escaped and Rachel's heart broke. Then, Quinn noticed Rachel and she panicked.

Before Quinn had the chance to get outside, Rachel was on her way home, her legs pumping up and down as fast as they could. When she reached her home she was out of breath. She jumped off of her bike and onto the grass. As she had lied down on the soft blades of green, Rachel stared at the sky, the image of those sad eyes forever haunting her mind.

"I wish I had known," Quinn admitted even softer.

"Really?" Rachel asked with wide eyes.

Quinn stopped and smiled shyly.

"Really."

Another blush pervaded Rachel's cheeks, and she continued walking along side Quinn. It began to flurry and Quinn shivered.

"I still cannot believe you walked all the way to my house, Quinn. It is freezing!"

Quinn laughed.

"I cannot believe you volunteered to walk me home! It is freezing!"

The laughter escaping Rachel's mouth warmed Quinn's heart. It was a sound she had missed so much. She had only seen Rachel two times and both had been intense and sad, the star's signature smile nowhere to be found.

"There's that smile," Quinn said as she found herself smiling too.

Rachel beamed at that and gazed up at the sky.

"I am not smiling!" she denied, and she playfully hit Quinn on the arm.

"Whatever you say, Rachel," Quinn giggled.

Rachel pretended to act defeated when in actuality she was relishing in the moment. It was comfortable, so comfortable, like they had been like this forever.

"God, look at the stars, Quinn. Aren't they beautiful?" she whispered as her finger pointed to the stars.

Quinn stopped walking for a moment to look up at the sky. Her eyes saw little white spheres sparkling in the darkened sky. She didn't know why but it gave her hope, like there was something bigger than her out there in space.

Then she looked over to Rachel who was still gazing up. Her eyes were sparkling brighter than the stars.

It was remarkable. Rachel was remarkable, how she could just stare up at the sky as if it were the most incredible thing she had ever seen. Quinn felt a familiar pull in the pit of her stomach, and she took a deep breath. The light from the stars illuminated the brunette, and Quinn was suddenly speechless.

Rachel Berry was beautiful.

"Quinn, can I ask you a question?"

The question pulled Quinn out of her trance. She blinked and looked curiously at Rachel.

"Okay…"Quinn said quizzically.

"Why were you at your parents tonight?"

Quinn stopped walking. She had been avoiding telling Rachel about her marriage, her situation. It was humiliating. After all she had been through, she still ended up in Lima married to someone she didn't love.

But Rachel had told her everything. It was only fair that Quinn did the same.

"Every Friday night we go to have dinner with my parents. I know, I know, Gilmore Girls, anyone?"

Rachel giggled softly at the joke, but she could tell this was sore subject. She decided to push Quinn a little further.

"We?"

Quinn sighed, her eyes avoiding Rachel's. She had to tell her, she deserved to know.

"Sam and I. We…we're married," she admitted.

Rachel looked down to the ground, unsure of why that information made her feel somewhat disappointed. Of course Quinn had married Sam. They were high school sweethearts. Suddenly, she felt something in the pit of her stomach, a feeling she was all too familiar with, a feeling she had felt once before with the blonde.

"Oh," she said softly, trying not to show her disappointment.

"Yeah," Quinn sighed.

Quinn stopped at a small brick house. There were small yellow lights around the door and on a pine tree in the front yard. Almost all of the lights were off, save for one on the second floor.

"Well," Quinn began, "this is me."

Rachel's heart dropped. She was just starting to learn about the girl that had been such a mystery to her all of her life.

Quinn Fabray was an enigma that Rachel so desperately wanted to solve.

Quinn was staring at her home with those same sad hazel eyes Rachel had seen when she was ten years old. It broke her heart. Before she could control herself, Rachel pulled Quinn into her arms, trying to fix whatever it was that had made Quinn broken.

"It's going to be okay, Quinn," she whispered softly.

The warmth overwhelmed Quinn as her arms formed around Rachel. It made her heart swell and her eyes become misty. The scent of lavender engulfed her, making her dizzy.

Rachel held Quinn for a few minutes, never wanting to let go.

Friends hug this way, right? Friends hug for five minutes, right? She pulled Quinn closer, wanting to absorb everything she could. It was so strange. This was the most complete she had felt in years, but she had to let go.

They pulled out of the hug and stared at each other. Quinn's heart was pounding as she gazed at Rachel's soft lips. White puffs of air escaped from them.

"I guess I'll see you later then?" Quinn asked.

Rachel nodded, trying to hide her sudden sadness. Then she got an idea and her face brightened. Quinn smiled at the change in her expression, the smile causing her to feel notably happier. Rachel dug her hands into her pockets, searching for her cell phone.

"Here," she said once she had finally found the device.

She gave her phone to Quinn.

"Put your number inside it and call me when you want to hang out or something."

Quinn nodded and pulled out her phone.

"You too," she said and handed her phone to Rachel.

They exchanged numbers, their hands grazing as they returned their phones. Quinn's breath hitched at the contact that had caused a shot of electricity to ripple down her arm.

"I'll call you," she said smiling nervously as she turned to leave.

"Quinn?"

Quinn whipped around at the sound of her name. Rachel stood at the end of the walkway wringing her hands together timidly. She laughed nervously and shook her head.

"Never mind. Just, goodnight. It was lovely meeting you," she said with a wink, trying to diffuse the tension she had just created.

Quinn walked back over to the brunette and took her gloved hand.

"It was lovely meeting you, Ms. Berry. Sweet dreams," she whispered into her ear.

-/-

And now here she sat, staring at her damn phone.

Why was this so difficult? It was just a phone call, one phone call. She had been thinking about what to say since the moment she had walked into her house last night.

What did Rachel like? What would they do? It wasn't like she could be like "Hey, Rachel, it's your former torturer, Quinn. I was wondering if you wanted to go bowling with me today."

"I'm such an idiot," she said to the empty room.

She took a deep breath. Her finger scrolled down to Rachel's number and her thumb hit the green button. The instant she did so, her heart began to race.

_-/-_

_Call from Quinn Fabray_

Rachel jumped up and seized her phone. Had the phone been a human or small animal she would have choked it to death. She didn't want to seem like she had been waiting all day for this phone call, which she had been, so she let it ring twice before answering.

"Hello?" she asked, trying to seem cool and collected when in fact she was so nervous her hands were shaking as she held the phone.

"Hey, Rachel. It's Quinn."

Rachel smiled at the sound of the blonde's voice.

"Hi, Quinn," she said happily.

She heard Quinn breathing on the other end. It made her hear beat faster than it already was.

"Uhm how are you?"

_How am I? I'm ecstatic because I'm talking to you!_

"I'm great! How are you?"

"I'm alright… so uhm what are your plans for today?"

Rachel jumped head first into her plans.

"Well, I have a matinee performance in two hours. After that I am eating lunch with my fathers at a quaint little restaurant near the theater. Then I have another performance at 7pm which will be over at exactly 9:30pm."

There was silence on the other end.

"But after that I'm totally free!"

Quinn laughed and Rachel giggled too, relieved that Quinn didn't make fun of her rambling.

"Well, I have something to go to at 7pm, but maybe we can meet up after your show?"

Rachel beamed and nodded profusely.

"Rachel?"

Realizing that Quinn could not see her, Rachel began to agree even more profusely.

"Oh! Sorry, yes! That sounds lovely! What would we be doing after my performance?"

More silence.

_Was she thinking? Maybe she doesn't want to hang out anymore. I shouldn't have said the word lovely. Lovely might have implied something negative or maybe she-_

"Uhm, would you want to go bowling?"

Bowling?

"Sorry that was a stupid idea. What would you want to do?"

-/-

The conversation had gone so well until Rachel had asked what they were doing. Quinn hadn't planned that far. Hell, Quinn hadn't planned on Rachel even answering her call. She had been winging the entire thing.

"Well, after two performances I expect to be quite tired. Bowling may be too strenuous for me. Plus, bowling is definitely not one of my strengths. Would you maybe like to go to the coffee shop across from the theater? They have really great deserts and coffee. Oh! I could show you around the set too!"

Quinn laughed at her excitement.

"That sounds great, Rachel."

She could hear Rachel smiling on the other end. Finally she had something to look forward to.

"So what time should we meet? Are you sure your prior plans at seven will not interfere with this?"

Quinn smiled.

"I'm sure it won't conflict. I'll meet you at the theater at 9:30pm. Sound good?"

"Sounds great!"

She laughed again feeling uncontrollably happy. She had plans. For once in her sad life Quinn Fabray had plans that didn't involve monotonous chores, her horrible parents, or her husband. It was going to be a good night.

"I guess I'll see you later, Ms. Berry."

She heard a giggle on the other end of the phone.

"See you tonight, Ms. Fabray."


	9. Chapter 9

With a quick turn of the dial and close of the curtain, Quinn closed her eyes and let the water massage her back. Each drop of hot water untangled the daunting cluster of knots in her shoulders. She always stayed in the shower a little too long, never wanting to leave the searing heat of the water. It was the perfect place to think.

As she slid her head underneath the streaming water and massaged the shampoo into her scalp, her mind began to race. She was going to see Rachel tonight. At a coffee shop. Alone. Together. A smile graced over her lips.

Quinn rubbed her body with soft soap. Her mind then wandered towards their hug from the previous night. She couldn't place her finger on it but there was something special about it, something she had never felt before in anyone's arms. It had lingered, and Quinn still remembered her scent, how intoxicating it was.

A small whimper released from her lips as her hands traveled down her body. Her body recalled the feel of Rachel's not at all man hands around her body, pulling her closer and closer into the warmth, soft hands rubbing small circles in her back and that enthralling smell. A pool of heat formed in the pit of her stomach as she continued to envision the brunette, her legs in the dress she wore every night at the theater, a long red dress with the halter-top, and how they seemed to be never-ending. Her hazel eyes had traveled down the endless trail of tan, smooth skin in the darkness of the theater.

"Hey, baby."

Quinn jumped out of her skin at the feel of two actual man hands caressing her hips.

She released a breath and laughed nervously.

"Hey," she breathed as he began to rub his bare body against hers, obviously wanting something other than a shower.

Goosebumps began to form on her hot skin as his hands roamed her body.

"Sam!" she exclaimed as he entered territory she had not yet given him permission to enter.

"What?" he said with a look of disbelief.

She cleared her throat.

"I actually needed to you know, shower."

His mouth opened, then closed. Then he nodded as he moved his hands up to her shoulders.

"You're so uptight, baby. Let me massage you a bit."

He grunted as he harshly began to dig his coarse hands into her previously relaxed but currently tense shoulders.

Quinn knew this should turn her on or something, but she was too nervous about her… outing with Rachel to be turned on, especially to a man who was practically forcing himself on her. She pulled out of his grip and turned around to face him. A blush pervaded her cheeks as he stared with longing eyes at her body.

"Sam, I really need to get ready. I'm going out tonight and I need to leave in less than an hour," she said as firmly as she could.

He was still drooling over her body and didn't process what she had just told him.

"Uh huh," he mumbled, his eyes trailing down her hips.

"Sam!"

Finally her husband snapped out of his trance and looked her in the eyes in a sort of daze.

"Yeah?" he asked obliviously.

She rolled her eyes impatiently.

"Sam, I need to finish showering and get ready. I'm going out tonight. So if you could please stop drooling over me like a piece of bacon that would be lovely."

His eyebrows furrowed and his lips contorted into a frown.

"You're going out tonight?"

Quinn nodded, the water starting to cool as the hot water ran out.

"Where?"

Quinn never went out, especially on Saturdays unless it was with her mother or Sam. Even though she had promised herself she wouldn't, she had lost track with most of her friends from college and high school. It wasn't like her phone was ringing twenty-four hours a day with people asking to hang out with her.

"Out," she mumbled ambiguously.

"You're going to that stupid play again, aren't you? Jesus, Quinn what is with you? You hate plays! And you hate Rachel, so I don't get why you'd rather see that than be with me in the shower."

"I don't hate plays, and I certainly do not hate Rachel."

He scoffed at her.

"Quinn, you've never asked me to take you to plays, and you tortured Rachel in high school. If that wasn't hate I don't know what is."

Her blood began to boil. He had no right to bring that up. Contrary to his belief, Sam had no idea who she was in high school nor does he have the slightest clue of who she is now. No one knew who she was in high school.

She didn't know who she was in high school.

"People change, Sam. I may have tortured her, but I never hated her. Not for a second."

"Then why do you want to see this stupid play again? It's like the sixth time you've seen it. It's like you're avoiding me or something."

He looked hurt, honestly he did, but Quinn could care less. She decided to weigh out her options.

Option 1: Spend the night with Sam, in the shower while he thrust himself inside of her while she faked pleasure. Afterwards they'd probably watch Avatar or something ridiculous that he thought she liked but truly despised.

Option 2: See a play she had fallen in love with the moment the curtain fell and then hang out with Rachel Berry, a girl who not only made her laugh, but made her smile. Have coffee at a comfy spot and get to know her the real way, the right way.

She'd be an idiot to choose option one.

"I'm not avoiding you, Sam, don't be stupid. I just love this show, and I want to take some time to get to know Rachel a bit more. She's not nearly as annoying as you think she is."

Sam slammed his hand on the shower dial immediately stopping the water from warming Quinn's body. She shivered as she looked into his eyes. Okay, now he truly looked hurt.

"Take me to the play, Quinn."

Her jaw dropped.

"What?"

"You heard me. I want to see what the hell is so awesome about this play because it's got my wife wanting it more than sex with her husband. Let's go get dressed."

"Sam, you- you wouldn't like it."

He shrugged.

"If it's something you like, I need to see it. Maybe it can be something we'll enjoy together."

His hand took her wrist, and she whimpered at the touch, out of fear, not pleasure; Sam took it to mean the latter feeling. A sly grin pervaded his face.

"Come on, babe. It'll be fun."

Quinn gulped and nodded. This was going to be a disaster.

-/-

Rachel skipped off stage and into her dressing room, still riding the incredible high she got from performing each night. It was her second performance of the night, yet she felt as though she could keep going forever.

As she grabbed her water bottle from the table, she looked into the mirror. Her skin was flushed and there were small beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She flashed herself a smile and began to get dressed, drinking her water as she searched for her jeans.

Her heart was pounding now, her nerves creeping up on her. She was about to go out for coffee with Quinn Fabray. A genuine smile formed on her face and remained there until she was fully out of her costume and into something much more comfortable.

High school Rachel would not be caught dead in the outfit she wore. The woman clad in tight jeans, a black turtleneck, her "R" necklace, and a nice pair of heals would have caused sixteen year old Rachel Berry to faint. After three make up and hair checks, Rachel deemed herself appropriate and shut the lights on her way out of her dressing room.

She made her way through the lobby, thanking the occasional fan. Honestly, she wasn't paying attention to the two or three people asking for her to sign their programs; her eyes were searching for a tall blonde with heart-stopping hazel eyes.

Then, out of nowhere, she spotted the girl she was looking for. Just as a bright smile was forming on her already flushed face, she saw that Quinn was not alone. A tall, muscular blonde with a mop of a haircut was clutching the girl to his side, as he talked to her in a rather hushed tone. The look on Quinn's face was one mixed with annoyance, fear, and anxiety.

Something was wrong.

Quinn wore a simple black dress and ballet flats that were shimmering silver. She held her wrist tightly and shifted her weight as Sam scolded her in her right ear. Rachel took a deep breath and tried to ignore the disappointment she felt at the sight of the two with linked arms. As confidently as she could, Rachel walked over to the couple with the best smile she could muster up.

"Why hello there, Quinn! How nice of you to come! Sam!" she exclaimed and hugged the man, freeing the blonde from his tight grip.

As she left the hug, Rachel noticed Quinn rubbing the arm that had been held hostage by Sam's death grip. Quinn's face said she was fine, but her eyes were filled with panic. It was beyond obvious that she didn't want Sam there.

"So, Sam, how have you been? It's been forever since we've talked. What are you up to these days, besides being married to such a lovely lady?"

He swallowed heavily and glanced over to Quinn whose eyes were glued to the floor.

"Well, we've been doing well actually, Rachel. I work over at the bank 9-5pm. You seem to be doing… well yourself."

"That's wonderful, Sam."

Quinn looked at Rachel, their eyes meeting for the first time that evening, and Rachel was taken aback by her sadness. All she wanted was to make the pain go away so she could gaze into her sparkling hazel eyes.

"Oh my goodness, I am such an idiot!" Rachel exclaimed.

Sam looked puzzled. The brunette sighed and winked at Quinn.

"I left my chap stick in my dressing room."

Quinn quickly caught on.

"Oh, oh. Uhm, I'll go get it for you Rachel. I remember where it is."

Rachel batted her eyelashes, putting on what she believed the performance of a lifetime.

"Thank you so much, Quinn," she said loudly as the blonde went off to retrieve the girl's chap stick.

Once the two were alone, Rachel went in for the kill.

"Sam, can I be frank?" she asked suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them.

"Sure," he said indifferently.

"I had invited Quinn for coffee after my show tonight. I had no idea she would be bringing you nor did I know she was even attending the show in the first place. I'm assuming you are unaware of my invitation."

"No, I was not aware," Sam said as he looked down to the floor, feeling guilty that he had gotten mad at his wife for nothing.

"It's just, we've had a very, very rocky past and both of us are tired of pretending to hate each other. That is why I invited her to spend time with me tonight. I really want to become closer to her, considering I have little friends here in Lima."

Sam nodded, understanding the Rachel's reasoning.

"I see," he said neutrally.

She looked at him with big, innocent eyes.

"Do… you still want to grab coffee with her?"

"Yes!" she said a little too enthusiastically. "I mean, yes, that would be ideal. Do you mind lending me your wife for the evening? I have a car so I will get her home as soon as we're done with our coffee, I promise."

Sam mulled over the idea.

"Okay then. I don't see why not," he said quietly.

And then Rachel was hugging him harder than he had ever been hugged in his life. When he was released from her grasp, she was beaming and just in time too. Quinn had returned with the Chap Stick in hand.

"Quinn! You found it!" Rachel squealed and ran over to the blonde who was beaming just as brightly.

"It wasn't easy, but yes, I have found it."

"Where was it?" Rachel asked curiously.

Quinn laughed.

"In the drawer labeled 'Rachel Berry's Chap Sticks."

Rachel blushed and looked over to Sam who was not amused by their banter.

"Well, I better go. You two have fun, I guess. See you at home, baby," Sam said and forcefully enveloped Quinn's lips with his in a sloppy kiss.

He flashed his wife a smile, gave a small glare to the brunette, and left the building strutting cockily. Quinn gaped as she watched her husband leave in disbelief.

"How did you do that?" she asked as she turned back to Rachel who was smiling deviously.

"Quinn, as you know, I am well trained in the dramatic arts, therefore I used my skills to convince your husband that all I really wanted was to hang out with my newly acquainted friend, and you fit the bill. It wasn't really acting, to say the truth, but it worked, didn't it?"

Quinn smiled and nodded.

"Yes, it did work. Thank you, by the way. I didn't plan on him coming."

"It's quite alright, Quinn. I had a feeling you didn't know he'd be attending which is why I initiated plan: have Quinn get my chap stick from my room so I can convince Sam to go home so I can hang out with Quinn alone without his looming presence."

Quinn laughed.

"Looming presence?"

"It sounded better in my head," Rachel admitted with a laugh.

The lobby was empty, the doorman and audience members gone for the night. Suddenly, Rachel became quite serious.

"Quinn Fabray, would you like to accompany me into the theater?"

Quinn nodded and gave her a small smile.

"I'd love too."

Rachel grabbed her hand eagerly, and dragged her down the isle of the tiny theater towards her home. They bounded up the stairs and onto the empty stage. The instant they arrived on the stage, Rachel dropped Quinn's hand and stared out into the audience, as if it were a full house.

She let out a deep breath she had been holding and closed her eyes. Quinn gazed at the brunette as she admired her movements. Rachel truly belonged on the stage, Quinn could see it clearly now. Never before had she seen Rachel so comfortable, so at ease. Her shoulders were not tense, her expression no longer forced into a smile. Her lips were a single, pink, thin line.

"You really love it here, don't you?" Quinn asked softly.

Rachel still didn't open her eyes.

"It's the one place where I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not."

Quinn nodded. She felt the same way except not about being on stage. The only other time she felt she could truly be herself, truly herself, was when she was painting. Long before she had met Sam or became popular, Quinn's father had bought her an easel and paint for her ninth birthday. She had spent hours painting flowers and the sky in her backyard during the summertime. She painted the snow in the winter, the trees in the fall, and the lilies that grew outside of her window in the spring. It had been years since she had painted, but something about stroking the brush down the clean canvas made her feel so powerful. She was completely in control, unstoppable.

"You were incredible tonight, Rachel," Quinn complimented quietly, partly hoping Rachel wouldn't hear.

Rachel's eyes snapped open and she turned to face Quinn who was now blushing.

"Really?" she breathed in disbelief.

Quinn nodded and walked closer to the actress. She hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder and looked her straight in the eye.

"You are incredible."

Rachel felt her heart throb inside her chest and her palms sweat. Quinn was so close to her and all she could concentrate on was how smooth her porcelain skin was, how long her eyelashes were, and how wonderful she smelled. Her shoulder was tingling where Quinn's gentle hand lay.

Slowly, Rachel placed her hand on top of the one caressing her shoulder. She felt a rush of electricity ripple through her at the feel of the skin on her bare hand. They stood there, hand over hand, eyes penetrating the other in an intimate stare, for a few minutes, before Rachel realized what they were doing was not exactly friendly.

She removed her hand from the girl's hand, immediately longing to return to the warmth of the soft extremity.

"Shall we go and get some coffee?" she asked theatrically.

Quinn seemed to be in a daze and could only nod while Rachel linked their arms as they walked down the stairs to the lobby. It was strange how natural it felt being together, having their arms linked, like they fit together perfectly. Quinn was smiling brightly as she felt her heart race. She had never felt this way before. With Sam she felt trapped, like she was on a leash. Now she felt safe and secure as Rachel's arm fit snug between hers.


	10. Chapter 10

The bell on the coffee shop door rang as the two girls entered the store. A few people sat at the tables in the front, while one man resided in the back reading a book from the store's small selection.

Their arms were linked, both girls beaming, as they approached the counter to order. Rachel unhooked their arms and gazed up at the menu. Quinn stared as she watched Rachel's lip slide between her teeth while she contemplated her order. It was adorable.

"What are you going to get, Rachel?" she asked, very much entertained by the girl's quirks.

Rachel took a deep breath and stared Quinn straight in the eyes.

"I am going to get green tea," she said with conviction.

Quinn blinked.

"Green tea?" she asked.

The brunette nodded.

"What's wrong with green tea?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just thought you'd want something a bit more complicated than that."

Rachel smiled, a blush pervading her already flushed skin. Quinn ordered the same, and the two went to sit in a secluded corner in the back of the store. Surrounded by books, Quinn took a moment to scan the shelves, always eager to begin a new book. She had never been to this café before; it was quaint, low key, and just the place she would need in the future to get away from her family.

"How did you know about this place?" Quinn asked absently as she read the back cover of a book.

Rachel sat down at a table, her fingers tracing circles on the aged wood.

"When I first started working at the theater, I was still… well I call it upset but my parents choose to call it clinically depressed. Some nights were stressful, especially after a five-hour rehearsal. One day, I took a breather and walked straight into this store without even looking. When I finally realized where I was I was pleasantly surprised. It's so… quiet, isn't it? It's the perfect place to think."

Quinn nodded and joined Rachel at the table. After a quick gaze at the counter, she refocused her attention to Rachel who was staring at her with an indecipherable look.

"What?" she asked without her usual defensive venom.

Rachel shrugged and gazed out the window. It had begun to snow lightly. Tiny flurries danced to the sidewalk at a slow graceful pace.

"I love snow," Rachel said softly, her eyes glued to the flakes falling to the ground.

It still amazed Quinn how emotional Rachel became over such trivial things like snow, or being alone on an empty stage. Quinn drank in her features, her long flowing brown hair and deep chocolate eyes.

"You're beautiful," she breathed.

Rachel tore her eyes from the window to look at a blushing Quinn.

"I-I mean, the snow is so beautiful," Quinn stammered, her face as red as the coffee mugs the waiter brought just in time.

"Two green teas?" he asked nonchalantly as he placed two mugs on the table.

"Thank you," the girls said simultaneously.

He nodded and walked away. Quinn's cheeks were still on fire as she was still in disbelief that she had actually said that.

Thankfully, Rachel changed the subject quickly, although she was still in shock after hearing Quinn's brutally honest confession. It warmed her heart, the approval of her ex-nemesis. Despite her superior acting skills, Rachel still could not stop the humongous smile from forming on her face. Quinn hadn't stopped blushing.

"So Quinn, the last time we were in this situation I told you about my failed attempt to achieve stardom. What did you do after graduation?"

Quinn sighed, a smile tugging at her lips, and ran her hand through her hair.

"I went to college in California with Sam. My father took care of tuition for both of us and-,"

Rachel stopped sipping her tea.

"Wait, your father?"

Quinn nodded as she took a sip from her mug, the warmed tea bringing new life to her body.

"Wow, this is really good," she breathed as she took a larger sip.

Rachel smiled.

"I'm glad we can agree on that. I drink it every day. It is much healthier than coffee and gives me the energy I need to perform in a vigorous show such as _Rent_."

Quinn suppressed a giggle, loving how she could never get a straight yes or no from Rachel.

"So, you're father…" Rachel prompted slightly, trying to bring the conversation back to what she wanted to know.

Quinn's life was a mystery, an enigma, and Rachel wanted to know everything she could.

"Right, my father," Quinn began, choosing her words very carefully, "he well…"

Her mouth wasn't working correctly. For some reason, Quinn didn't know what she wanted to tell Rachel.

Quinn didn't want to be fake with Rachel or lie to her anymore, especially after all they had been through. As if she had read Quinn's mind, Rachel reached over and placed her hand on Quinn's.

"Hey," she said softly. "If you don't want to talk about him, I understand."

Quinn shook her head. She lifted her eyes to meet Rachel's. No one had ever looked at her like that before. Not even her mother looked at her that way.

The least she owed Rachel was the truth, so Quinn took a deep breath, her hand still in Rachel's, and told her everything.

"If you didn't know, my father is…" her breath hitched and Rachel squeezed her hand.

"My father is a monster," she finally said in a low whisper, trying hard not to break.

"When I was younger, my family went to church and had dinner with my grandparents every Sunday. My mother would force me into my nice dress and the stockings that made my knees itch and the shoes that were too tight because they were Franny's old ones. We would go for the service, and I remember sitting in between my father and my sister. Every now and then he'd glance over to make sure I was behaving. I never dared to move a muscle. Then, after he'd schmoozed a bit with the other donators, we'd drive home in silence. Talking was not allowed in the car. Our grandparents would come over for dinner. My mother had a special tablecloth for the occasion and china that we were forbidden to touch. I remember one Sunday, I went to grab the salt and I knocked over my father's glass of wine. The room had gone silent, and I knew I was in trouble."

Quinn took a shaky breath, trying desperately not to cry.

"He put on that smile of his and scooped me into his arms and said 'No worries, my dear, Mommy will clean it up. Come with me and we'll get you cleaned off.' I thought I was okay. He brought me upstairs and the minute we turned into his study I knew it was just an act. He- he sat me down and kicked me onto my knees. After he pulled out his belt, he pulled my Sunday dress up and-,"

Rachel's arms were around her before Quinn could even break. She buried her head in the Rachel's hair, sobbing quietly into the crook of her neck, soaking Rachel's shirt with tears and snot.

And Rachel just held her, her fingers absently stroking her hair and rubbing her back.

Once Quinn finally gained a bit of control, she reluctantly pulled out of Rachel's arms. She went to wipe her eyes, but Rachel beat her to it. She felt a smooth hand wipe away the tears streaming down her normally composed face. Their eyes met, hazel colliding with brown, and what Quinn saw caught her off guard. She saw pain, pure pain. And she had no idea why.

"What?" she asked quietly.

Rachel shook her head gently and took Quinn's hand in hers once more.

"It-it just kills me knowing that he did that to you. I wish I could have-,"

"You couldn't have done anything, Rachel."

Rachel nodded and gave the hand another squeeze, signaling Quinn to keep going.

"Midway through senior year, my father came back to my mother while I was in school. Somehow he convinced her to give him another chance. He's been living with her ever since. He loved Sam, did the clichéd dinner with the parents and welcomed him into the 'Fabray Family'. It was decided that we would go to university together. My parents would pay tuition for a school in California."

"It was decided… for you?" Rachel questioned curiously.

Quinn nodded solemnly.

"Well, where did you want to go?"

"NYU. I got in too. My plan was to major in education."

"Did your parents know about this?"

"No, they didn't know I applied or got in."

"That's…" Rachel deliberated the correct adjective to describe Quinn's unfortunate situation.

"It sucks," Quinn said finishing what would have been a more insightful sentence.

Rachel took another sip of her green tea, contemplating her next question. She opened her mouth hesitantly, but no words ended up escaping, her next question on the tip of her tongue.

"Rachel, you can ask me anything. The least I owe you is the truth. You know more about me than my own parents just from this conversation alone."

Rachel nodded nervously.

"How did you and Sam happen? Your marriage, I mean," she asked shyly, her eyes looking anywhere but Quinn's.

"Ah," Quinn sighed as she took a drink of tea, "I was wondering when you were going to ask about him. Well, we met, as you know in high school, and dated for a while. He was sweet to me, held my hand, did all of the things boyfriends do I guess. Then you and Finn broke up, and Finn decided to, I don't know, to win me back? It was a stupid weird time, and to be honest I never wanted to be with Finn. Sam and I split, Finn and I got together, and I hated every minute of it."

"Why?"

Quinn sighed.

"Because I saw how much it hurt you to see Finn with me," she admitted softly.

"Oh," Rachel murmured.

"Anyway, Sam and I eventually got back together. We went to college together, and then came back here where my father had a job at the bank ready for Sam. We got married four weeks after we returned home."

Rachel's jaw was opening and closing.

"Can I be frank?"

Quinn was puzzled but nodded.

"That doesn't seem that romantic."

Quinn laughed.

"You're right, it wasn't."

Rachel's head cocked to the side.

"How did he propose?"

"He didn't," Quinn said as she twirled her spoon around her mug.

Now Rachel's jaw hit the floor.

"What?" Rachel exclaimed.

"He went out to dinner with my father, and the next day I was told I was marrying Sam."

Rachel was speechless. This sounded like some clichéd version of the Princess Diaries. Her father forced her to marry Sam? She couldn't imagine being forced to do anything. It wasn't in her nature to do something she didn't like.

Quinn had spent her adolescence going home to a father who abused her and a mother who stood by and let it happen. Rachel felt sick to her stomach, imagining a nine-year-old girl getting belted by her father for something as innocent as spilling a glass of wine. She was physically ill. Something, a combination of anger and horror, was building up inside of her.

"What?" Quinn asked softly.

Rachel shook her head, not wanting to spoil the evening.

"You deserve so much more, Quinn," she said in a hushed whisper.

Unable to speak, Quinn grasped the girl's hand and squeezed it as a thank you. Rachel understood and nodded with a small sad smile.

The bell ringing from the door broke the trance, and Rachel pulled her hand out of Quinn's as the waiter approached the table. Quinn immediately missed the warmth.

"Are you two all finished?" the waiter asked.

The two nodded, and the man grabbed their cups. After leaving the money and a generous tip, they decided to go home. Quinn held the door open for Rachel, and the pair walked out into the cold.

It was still snowing, and, in the corner of her eye, Quinn saw Rachel shiver. Without thinking, Quinn linked her arm with Rachel's, instantly feeling a rush of heat. Rachel smiled softly as they continued to walk in silence. It was a comfortable stillness, a sort of tranquility neither girl had felt before.

They arrived at Rachel's tiny car and Quinn, as always, opened the door for Rachel. Rachel blushed, hoping it was hidden by the darkness.

It wasn't, but Quinn didn't say anything. She started the car, put on her iPod, and pulled out of the parking lot. With the heat on full blast, Quinn began to feel sleepy, not realizing how tired she actually was. Rachel smiled at the tired blonde and changed the song to her favorite winter song, _White Winter Hymnal _by Fleet Foxes.

She heard Quinn sigh.

"God, I love this song," Quinn said quietly as she gazed out the window, her breath leaving white circles on the glass.

"I wouldn't have guessed that you listen to this kind of stuff," Quinn remarked as Rachel stopped at a stop sign.

Rachel laughed softly.

"Well, there is a lot more to me than show tunes," she said lightly, not meaning any insult.

"I know, Rachel," Quinn whispered, turning now to face her.

For a brief moment, Rachel took her eyes off of the road and gazed at Quinn. She saw the honesty in her eyes.

"Rachel, I'm so happy we did this. There is so much I want to learn about you. I want to… make up for lost time, I guess."

Rachel nodded and smiled.

"Me too, Quinn."

They proceeded to Quinn's home. The window wipers hypnotized the tired blonde and before she knew it the car came to a halt, and Rachel was looking at her.

"Quinn?"

Quinn blinked out of her daze.

"Sorry. Oh, we're here," she said sadly, not really wanting to leave Rachel's company.

She looked at the clock. It was much later than she thought it was. Had they really spent three hours together? It had felt like five minutes.

"I guess I should…" Quinn began.

"Wait!" Rachel said loudly, "I'll walk you to the door."

Quinn smiled.

"Okay."

They exited the car and met each other at the beginning of the pathway. Sam was probably watching.

Quinn took Rachel's hand and slowly walked towards the front door. The porch light shined brightly and illuminated Rachel's tanned skin and her bright brown eyes.

She was beautiful.

Suddenly, Quinn's eyes landed on a pair of soft, plump lips. Subconsciously she wet her own lips, never wanting to kiss someone so much in her life.

Rachel's breath blew over her, the scent of green tea overwhelming her senses. It was all too much. It was all too fast. Quinn closed her eyes, trying to get a hold of herself, and a familiar soft hand brush over her cheek. Her heart stopped, and she opened her eyes, meeting the gaze of the beautiful brunette.

Their lips were so close, on the verge of touching. Quinn's head was screaming no, but her heart was winning. She felt her heart begin to race faster and faster as the distance between them began to close.

Quinn's hand moved to Rachel's hips, and pulled her nearer into her body. She had to be as close to Rachel as possible.

Just as their lips were about to touch, Quinn heard the doorknob turn. Her body froze, her eyes suddenly filled with panic. Rachel, sensing her panic, simply pulled the Quinn into her arms, as close as she possibly could, and whispered three words into her ear.

"You deserve more."

Quinn felt her throat close, the tears threatening to fall. She nodded and squeezed the girl in her arms, never wanting to let go. Then, the door opened, and Rachel flew out of her arms.

"Sam!" Rachel said loudly, trying to control herself.

"Rachel," he said suspiciously. "How was coffee? Must have been good I mean you drank it for three hours."

"It was lovely. Thank you, Rachel. I had a great time," Quinn said sincerely.

Rachel smiled.

"As did I," she said softly before turning to leave.

"Sam, can you give me one second with Rachel… alone?"

Sam consented reluctantly. Quinn walked back to Rachel and hugged her once more.

"I really did have a lovely time, Rachel. Thank you for everything."

Rachel nodded pulled out of the hug, brushing a strand of hair out of Quinn's face.

"You are beautiful, Quinn Fabray," Rachel said quietly, before turning to leave.

Quinn grabbed her hand, stopping her motion, and squeezed it once more before turning to leave. Rachel smiled and turned back to her car.

Quinn stood still in the cold, watching Rachel drive away into the night, snow falling heavier and heavier on her. After the car was out of sight, she turned back to her house. A feeling of dread overwhelmed her, but she took a deep breath and walked back to her home, back to her husband.


	11. Chapter 11

_Hello, my lovely readers. Believe it or not, I finished this chapter a few days ago but my beta was concussed earlier this week, therefore we have a chapter tonight rather than a few days ago. And despite said concussion here is the chapter I have written for you all. I hope you enjoy it, although it is a tad Sam-centric; don't worry there still is Faberry. Comments and reviews are lovely, so feel free to tell me what you all think. Thank you so much!_

* * *

Sam Evans reclined backward in his chair and turned up the volume of the game. A sigh escaped his lips, the men tackling each other no longer entertaining him. He glanced over to the clock, each minute making him more and more irate. Where was his wife? She was acting so strange lately. Every night she was out at that stupid theater, watching that stupid show with stupid Rachel Berry. They had gone to see the play a few months ago as per Quinn's request, and ever since then things had become different.

-/-

"What's it called again?" Sam asked as he pulled their car into a tight parking space a few blocks from the local theater.

"Rent," Quinn replied softly, gazing out the window.

"Oh."

Sam got out of the car, rounded the vehicle, and opened the door for his wife. She offered him a grateful smile as she exited the car. He wrapped his hand around her waist protectively as they walked together towards the theater.

"So, what's this play about?" he asked nonchalantly feigning interest.

"It's sort of hard to explain, Sam. I don't want to spoil it for you," she answered ambiguously.

He sighed and focused his eyes straight ahead. They entered the warm building, paid for the tickets, and went into the theater. It was already packed with eager audience members ready to see the show. After all, the only people who attended the show were ones who truly wanted to be there.

They took their seats, Quinn shedding her heavy winter coat while Sam opened up the program. Suddenly the lights dimmed, and a piano began to play a soft melody. In the corner of his eye, Sam saw a smile grace his wife's face, a genuine smile he hadn't seen in a long time. He looked back to the stage as the red curtain parted, revealing a line of people.

A spotlight illuminated each figure, one by one, but it was only until one figure in particular was illuminated that his wife's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Rachel seemed to smile in their direction, and Quinn blushed. Sam's blood began to boil. As the song progress, Sam figured he was probably just imagining it.

The play continued and Sam tried to pay attention, he really did, but his mind kept wandering. He still couldn't believe that Quinn liked this stuff. It was boring and every few minutes he'd fidget in his chair and gaze over at his wife. Finally the curtain closed and the lights came on, signaling intermission. The man sighed and stretched his arms while Quinn merely sat in a daze.

"Quinn?" Sam asked curiously as he watched his wife's sudden quietness.

She blinked and looked over to him as a small flush of red pervaded her cheeks.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna go get something to drink?"

Quinn nodded and got up out of her seat. He instinctually linked their arms and guided her out of the emptying theater. The two entered the lobby and approached the bar.

Sam bought himself a beer and his wife water at her request. By the time they were finished, it was time to go back in and Quinn couldn't return fast enough. Sam plopped back into his seat and endured the rest of the show. When it was finally over, Quinn beamed at him expectedly, wanting to know his opinion of her favorite show.

"So, what did you think?" she asked.

He shrugged and stood up, sliding his coat over his broad shoulders.

"It was alright. Definitely not worth seeing six times in one week."

Quinn's hazel eyes were suddenly pierced with pain. Sam felt that familiar pull in his stomach.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just didn't really get it," he apologized genuinely.

Quinn smiled and rubbed his arm gently, warming the boy's heart.

"It's alright. Rent isn't for everyone," she said with understanding.

The audience gathered in the small rundown lobby awaiting the arrival of the actors in the show. Sam and Quinn weaved their way through the crows and towards the door, the latter lagging behind as she searched the crowd for a particular brunette.

"Wait a second," Quinn said, stopping his motion.

"What is it?" he asked.

Quinn became quiet as she searched for the right words.

"I was hoping to see Rachel after the show. We've been talking a bit since we met last week and she -,"

Sam's grip on her tightened slightly.

"I don't really get this, Quinn. Rachel? I mean, you sort of used to hate her. I remember how you slushied her and made fun of her clothes," he said incredulously.

"I've changed, Sam, and so has Rachel. We are not the same people we were in high school."

Just as Sam was about to retort, a perky young brunette approached the tense couple.

"Why hello there, Quinn! How nice of you to come! Sam!" Rachel exclaimed as she wrapped the burly man as best as she could into a hug.

Sam feigned happiness, noticing that Rachel hadn't changed too much from high school.

"So, Sam, how have you been? It's been forever since we've talked. What are you up to these days, besides being married to such a lovely lady?" Rachel asked curiously.

He glanced over to Quinn, who was staring at the ground.

"Well, we've been doing well actually, Rachel. I work over at the bank 9-5pm. You seem to be doing…well yourself," he lied, knowing that being an actor in Lima Ohio held the same status as working the drive-in at McDonald's.

Sam was surprised that Rachel wasn't in New York doing this whole acting thing. He knew she was really talented, and he and the rest of the glee clubbers always suspected she'd have made it on Broadway by this point.

"That's wonderful, Sam," Rachel said gently, truly meaning the comment.

Sam noticed that Rachel and Quinn were staring at each other, neither having said a word to the other yet, and Sam was unsure of what was going on. Were they telepathic like the Avatar?

"Oh my goodness, I am such an idiot!" Rachel exclaimed, her voice echoing throughout the lobby.

Always a drama queen, Rachel looked over to Quinn with a look Sam couldn't decipher.

"I left my chap stick in my dressing room."

Quinn's body livened as she offered to retrieve the Chap Stick from Rachel's dressing room.

"Thank you so much, Quinn!" Rachel called after the blonde.

As Quinn ran backstage, Sam realized he was now alone with Rachel. This couldn't end well.

"Sam, can I be frank?" Rachel asked.

"Sure," Sam said, shrugging nonchalantly despite his nerves.

Rachel sighed, as if she were about to make a huge confession. Sam braced himself for the worst.

"I had invited Quinn for coffee after my show tonight. I had no idea she would be bringing you nor did I know she was even attending the show in the first place. I'm assuming you are unaware of my invitation."

Sam's stomach dropped.

"No I was not aware," he responded quietly, his eyes analyzing the pattern of the tiled floor.

"It's just, we've had a very, very rocky past and both of us are tired of pretending to hate each other. That is why I invited her to spend time with me tonight. I really want to become closer to her, considering I have little friends here in Lima," she continued, Sam still not making eye contact.

"I see."

When he finally looked at her, Rachel was batting her eyelashes and gazing at him expectantly. It really wasn't fair of him to forbid Quinn from seeing Rachel. They were just friends.

He sighed, but then remembered how happy Quinn looked when she saw Rachel, how her eyes brightened for the first time in months. He missed the way her hazel eyes sparkled. Sam's favorite thing about Quinn had always been her eyes. They hypnotized him. Rachel seemed to make her eyes sparkle again. Quinn's happiness was more important than his temporary loneliness.

"Do… you still want to grab coffee?" he asked reluctantly.

Rachel lit up.

"Yes! I mean, yes, that would be ideal. Do you mind lending me your wife for the evening? I have a car so I will get her home as soon as we're done with our coffee, I promise," she said enthusiastically.

"Okay then. I don't see why not," he surrendered with a sigh.

Sam was bombarded with yet another tight hug that almost suffocated him. Luckily, Quinn returned with the Chap Stick just before he started turning purple.

"It wasn't easy, but I found it," she announced happily.

"Where was it?"

Quinn laughed, the sound sadly unfamiliar to her husband. It had been weeks since she had last laughed like that, a real laugh. His heart wrenched at the sound. Why did Rachel make her laugh?

"In the drawer labeled 'Rachel Berry's Chap Sticks'."

The two were gazing at each other, neither acknowledging Sam's presence. Suddenly, he felt the urge to throw up because she looked at the brunette with the same look she had given him when he had gotten down on one knee their junior year and promised to be a good boyfriend to her.

Quinn was_ his wife_.

"Well, I better go. You two have fun, I guess. See you at home, baby."

Sam smothered her with a kiss that she did not reciprocate. Hiding his broken heart, Sam left the theater, head hung and shoulders slumped, already counting down the minutes until Quinn would be home again.

-/-

He sighed and shut off the television, exasperated.

Sam had done everything right.

He remembered how they had first met. It was in the hallway after some jocks had bombarded him with a cherry slushy to the face. Being a new kid, Sam was bewildered by the attack. At his old school, none of that kind of barbarism existed.

As he wiped the liquid off of his face, a goddess in a Cheerio's uniform and tight blonde ponytail pulled him into the bathroom. He could still remember how soft her fingers had felt on his arm. As she cleaned him off with a soft towel, all he could do was stare at the woman before him.

Her eyes had captivated him, the swirls hypnotizing him into a perfect haze of peace and awe. And then he laid the sweetest pick up line he had ever said on her and that was the moment he knew he had her hooked.

From then on Sam walked proudly down the halls with his girl on his arm and the entire school bowing down to him. He felt invincible in high school. He was the quarterback and dating the head cheerleader. Nothing gave him a better feeling then telling people he, Sam Evans, was dating Quinn Fabray.

And that whole red sea thing happened when they walked together down the hallway to class, which was also pretty sweet.

But then Finn had to ruin everything like he always did. He dumped Rachel over nothing and then stole Quinn from him. It was the worst moment of his life. Of course Quinn came to her senses and came back to him, but for a while there it didn't look so good for the blonde football star. He sang her Justin Beiber, gave her flowers, apologized a hundred times, and finally she took him back.

And now he never wanted to lose her.

Before she met Rachel, something was off with Quinn. Her eyes didn't sparkle like they did that day in the bathroom. She was paler, more tired, and sad looking.

And Sam didn't really understand why until one night five months ago. He had come home late from work, and Quinn was reading a book in bed. Looking to surprise his wife, he kissed her and threw her book on the floor, freeing her hands.

Her body had stiffened, but Sam had ignored it. He slammed the lights off with his other hand and caressed her as his mouth surged with power, his lips eager to have hers. After ripping each other's clothes off, he hung above her, gazing at her beauty.

Quinn had aged a bit, but it was for the better. She was gorgeous that night. As he made love to her he smiled, closing his eyes and enjoying the pleasure. He had heard her breath hitch, only making him go harder, but then something changed. Her breathing had become uneven, almost as if she was hyperventilating, causing his body to stop instantly. When he had opened his eyes and looked down to his wife, tears had stained her porcelain skin and her chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"What is it, baby?" he had asked softly as a soft hand brushed away her tears.

She shook her head, but by then it had hit him. Quinn didn't want to have sex with him. Feeling sick, he pulled himself out of her. She bolted for the bathroom, vomiting as soon as the door closed. Something was not right.

Sam had done everything right. Sure, they had gotten married really fast and young but only because they were in love, right? He put food on the table and worked six days a week so they could afford to live in the house her father had picked out for them.

He did everything, including giving up his dreams of being a comic book store owner and becoming an accountant, without complaint. Her father adored him, as did her mother, and they were the perfect couple, always have been.

And yet here he was alone in his house watching a rerun of last night's game which he had watched unaccompanied the evening prior. His eyes wandered to the clock, which read 11:45pm. The play had ended two hours ago. What could they possibly be doing?

-/-

"Shut up! No way! Are you serious?"

Quinn snorted as she choked on her green tea, causing a commotion in the small coffee shop that had become the pair's home.

"I would never joke of such a matter, Quinn!"

Quinn rolled her eyes, slamming her mug down for effect.

"Forty-seven animal sweaters! Really, Rach? Really?"

Rachel blushed, loving the term of endearment Quinn had developed a recently affinity for.

"It's not like I wear them all of the time anymore," Rachel defended herself.

Quinn nodded.

"Your taste in clothing has definitely improved since high school. Although, I did always love those skirts you used to wear."

Rachel flashed her a smile and sighed contently.

"What?" Quinn asked as she looked curiously at her friend.

"I love this," Rachel said softly, lacking her usual energetic tone.

A wave of peace overcame both girls as they took in everything that had happened over the past few months.

Quinn never missed a single show of Rachel's, always bringing her a single rose after each performance and a warm hug. The two had been spending enormous amounts of time together. Rachel had shown Quinn all of her favorite musicals and had discovered Quinn's secret love for the theater. They had spent hours on the phone or at each other's houses watching movies.

Right now, together in the coffee shop, both girls felt completely serene, completely content, and completely complete. Rachel reached over to Quinn and pulled her hand into hers, stroking her thumb over it gently.

If Quinn were a cat she would have began to purr. Slowly, Quinn guided Rachel to the couch next to the window, wanting nothing more than to bask in the warmth of Rachel. Their bodies melded into each other as Quinn held onto Rachel. Rachel burrowed herself into Quinn's chest and smiled.

"Hey, Quinn?" she asked softly in a small childlike voice.

"Yeah, Rach?"

She sighed.

"I'm so happy."

Quinn grinned, her hand idly stroking Rachel's dark curls. Quinn was too, truly happy. She hadn't felt this way in a long time.

It was the feeling she had at Nationals, when she admired Rachel's talent and celebrated the team's win. It was the same feeling she had gotten when she looked at Beth the night she was born.

It was a warm feeling but not in the literal sense. No, it was like someone filled her heart up to the brim with love, leaving her feeling full, but not too full, just right.

At first, Quinn was hesitant about everything, the hand holding, the hair twirling, the hugging and the bantering, but that resistance slowly vanished once she realized that it was making her feel this way.

It was something she had never felt with any other person, a new level of comfort unfamiliar to Quinn, one she wanted to keep forever, even if that meant the wrath of her husband and father. So she pushed her doubts, her worries, and her fears aside and pulled Rachel closer into her chest, closer to her heart.


	12. Chapter 12

The instant Quinn walked over the threshold, she met the eyes of her hurt and confused husband. She took a deep breath as she dropped her keys on the table and shed her winter coat.

"Hi," she said softly.

There was no response. When Quinn turned around and held the gaze of her husband, the sight of him nearly stopped her heart. Tears were streaming down his pale and tired face. Dark circles resided beneath his deep blue eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat. She was responsible for this, his sadness and pain.

"What's going on, Quinn?" he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

The room was silent, save for the sound of their quiet breathing.

"What the hell is going on, Quinn?" he yelled, the sound reverberating throughout their empty house.

Quinn flinched at the noise.

"What is going on with what?" she asked carefully.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm not stupid, Quinn. What's going on with you and Rachel? What happened tonight when I opened that door?"

Quinn's heart began to pound furiously inside of her chest.

What _was_ going on between her and Rachel?

Her lip slid between her teeth, as she delved into her mind. She thought back to the first night she saw Rachel at the play, how her heart had seemed to trip over itself at the sight of the matured brunette and her long legs. She thought back to their first conversation, how the girl's lips had captivated her.

Back then she was so confident, wanting so badly to make amends with the person she had hurt the most. Now things were so different. Memories of slushying Rachel, calling her those awful names, were so fuzzy and distant that Quinn could hardly believe she had ever been so mean to her current best friend.

The past few months had been filled with endless laughter, late night conversations that endured until well after the sun had risen. They had watched countless movies/movie musicals as per Rachel's requests had drank at least fifty cups of green tea, had cuddled for hours on Rachel's couch, hugged, held hands, and-

Quinn's eyes widened as her heart stopped momentarily.

Sam stared blankly at his wife as her mouth opened and closed.

"I need to sit down," she said, as the room seemed to spin around her.

A strong pair of arms caught her faithfully, and she felt herself being guided towards the couch as a dull pain grew in her head causing her to slip out of consciousness.

_-/-_

_Quinn feels her body sink into a soft couch. A murmur escapes her lips as a soft hand strokes her hair. Slowly, her eyes open and a familiar face comes into focus. A sliver of light dances across radiant tan skin, and the woman smiles down at the hazy blond._

_"Hey," her smooth voice sings._

"_Rachel," Quinn breathes, a shooting sensation of desire rushing through her limbs. _

_She wants to sit up and embrace her, but her body is paralyzed, every inch of her but her eyes refusing motion. The same soft hand dances over her dried lips, a single finger stroking her jawbone and then moving towards a strand of loose hair. _

_Sudden warmth pervades her body, the touch causing her body to erupt with longing. Her mind works furiously, trying to will any part of her to move, but it is no use. All she can do is stare into a pair of deep, sparking eyes and take in as much of the woman that she could, her scent, her touch, those eyes._

_-/-_

"Quinn?" Sam asked desperately, completely unaware of what was going on.

He was about to resort to giving her mouth-to-mouth when thankfully her eyes opened.

Everything was in a haze, bits and pieces of colors swirling around. With one blink, the room refocused, and she met the concerned gaze of her husband who was currently grasping her hand, cutting off her circulation in the process.

"Ow," she mumbled as she pulled her hand out of his death grip.

"Jesus, Quinn, mind explaining to me what the hell just happened?" Sam said, with less venom but plenty of confusion.

Quinn sat up as straight as she could and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to find some semblance of control.

It didn't work.

"Rachel didn't get you drunk, did she?" he asked skeptically.

Quinn laughed, shaking her head.

"Sam, this is Rachel we're talking about," she replied confidently.

Then she remembered, reliving the entire revelation once more. Her stomach lurched.

"Sam," she started but couldn't finish.

A tear rolled down her husband's cheek, and she wiped it to the side gently with her thumb.

"Just, what is going on? Quinn, I hate it when no one tells me anything. You're my wife. I just need to know the truth, okay?"

She nodded, but she couldn't do it. Quinn couldn't tell him the truth when she still really didn't understand how it had all happened.

"I-," her voice cracked, "Rachel is my best friend, Sam."

He scoffed and stood up, his eyes pierced with rejection.

"And what am I?" he asked louder, his voice exuberating more anger than pain.

Quinn was silenced by the question.

Sam was her husband, the love of her life, and the man of her dreams, her Prince Charming. But as Quinn stared at him, his shaking body and tensed muscles, jaw clenched and puffy red eyes, she did not see Prince Charming.

She saw the same insecure boy who had somehow convinced her that he was the one for her. She saw the same boy who had gotten slushied the day he joined Glee, the same boy who proposed to her in that astronomy room to be her boyfriend with a promise ring, the same boy who sang to her when she dumped him and somehow won her back.

No, he was not her Prince Charming. He was a boy, the same silly clueless boy she had dated in high school.

Sam sighed as he paced the floor. "Look, we have to go to your parents' house tomorrow night for dinner. Think it over and if you can't answer it by tomorrow I-," he paused, not wanting to threaten what he was about to threaten, "then we really have to talk."

Quinn opened her mouth to defend herself but she was silenced by his lips.

"Goodnight, Quinn," he whispered in her ear.

As he walked into their bedroom, Quinn slammed her head into the couch pillow. Without warning, she began to scream into the fabric, the material suppressing the piercing sound of her pain.

When did things get so complicated? She and Rachel had never even…

No, she couldn't even go there, not after what had just happened with Sam. She turned over onto her back and stared at the ceiling, her mind racing and a knot the size of the largest ball of string forming in her stomach.

Quinn had never planned on any of it. She hadn't planned on marrying Sam, meeting Rachel, becoming her best friend. It had all just happened, and now here she lay on a couch while her husband slept in their king sized bed.

Who was Sam?

A friend. He wasn't her husband. He should be her best friend, her lover, but he wasn't.

What was Rachel?

A girl.

A girl who made the worst days brighter.

A girl who could make Quinn smile with a little chuckle or ramble about something as mundane as a brand of shampoo.

A girl with the voice of an angel, a voice that could lull her to sleep or make her body tingle with warmth.

A girl whose touch made Quinn's skin light on fire, and a flame ignite in the pit of her stomach.

A girl she trusted with everything.

Her girl.

Rachel was her girl.

Quinn shot up in the darkness, her breath suddenly heavy.

"I love Rachel Berry," she whispered into the empty living room.

-/- 

"So, Sam, my boy, how is everything going? You look tired," Russell Fabray inquired as Quinn passed him the corn.

Sam's head snapped up from his plate.

"Things are going well. I've just got a lot of work this week," he responded, the lie rolling easily off of his tongue.

"I sure hope my Quinnie has helped lighten the burden of your very demanding job," Russell prompted, looking hungrily at his daughter whose eyes were glued to her mashed potatoes.

"Oh, sir, Quinn is much too busy to help me, sir. She's always out with Rachel you see. Those two are two peas in a pod," Sam revealed.

The old man gently, too gently, placed his fork down onto his delicate plate.

"Is that so?" he asked rhetorically.

His eyes never left his daughter who was still avoiding his glare.

"Quinnie?" her mother asked.

"Yes, mother?" Quinn finally responded with a hint of venom.

"Young lady, you talk to your mother with respect. Now, tell us, have you been hanging out with this… girl?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

"Why is that?"

"What's it to you?" she challenged.

She stared at the man across from her at the head of the table.

His face was smooth and freshly shaved, the skin pulled just a little too tightly around his face. A sweater vest and pair of khakis hung over his body. A glass of hard liquor remained within his grasp.

"What's it to me?" he said with a hollow laugh. "The prestige and honor of our family that's 'what's it to me'. What do you think the town is going to think when they see you hanging around with the faggots' daughters? What do you think the church will think if they see my daughter hanging out with an ugly little-"

Before the man could finish his sentence, a slap ripped across his tight face leaving a burning red handprint.

"Don't you dare," Quinn whispered, her hands clenched in fists shaking furiously.

He gaped at her and stood up instantly.

"Or you'll what?" he growled.

She stared at her parents and her husband. Without a word, Quinn ripped the tablecloth from the table, shattering all of her grandmother's good china as it crashed to the ground as the red wine seeped into the white cloth.

With that, she stormed out of the house.

The minute she slammed the door, Quinn broke into a mindless run, unsure of where her legs were taking her. The wind rushed past her heated face. For now, she ignored what she had just done and ran, letting the air rush in and out of her lungs and the lactic acid form in her muscles. Her legs pumped up and down as she raced down the streets.

Quinn was flying, escaping to a world where she had no monstrous father and indifferent mother, no oblivious husband and empty life. She escaped to a world where it was just her and Rachel.

As she continued on her way, she closed her eyes and just breathed in and out, releasing all of her tears. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs into the quiet night, but her voice was lost as she continued on keeping a steady pace.

All she wanted to do was to forget meeting Rachel. It would make things so much easier if she hadn't.

No.

She didn't want that.

Rachel was saving her. Rachel was making her happier.

Finally her legs ceased their motion, and Quinn's run morphed into a steady walk until the limbs completely stopped moving.

When she opened her eyes, Quinn realized where her legs had taken her.

Her breathing was labored as she struggled to walk up to the door, the lactic acid now a steady burn in her muscles. After she rang the doorbell, she paced up and down the pathway.

There was no answer.

She knocked heavily on the door until finally someone opened the door. The instant the door flung open, Quinn's hazel eyes connected with Rachel's. The brunette was in her pajamas, a matching pink fleece set, accompanied with monkey slippers. Her hair was tied back into a braid and her face lacked any trace of make up. Rachel, without an ounce of hesitation she pulled the blonde into her arms, slamming the door behind.

She took Quinn's hand and guided her upstairs into her bedroom directly into her bed. Quinn melted into the safe abyss that was Rachel's arms. As soon as Rachel had wrapped herself securely around the shaking blonde, Quinn released a sob that only made her want to sob harder.

Her body was wracked with each tear, and before she knew it she was weeping into Rachel's chest, holding on tightly to her for support. She had never felt so safe before and yet she couldn't stop crying.

And Rachel didn't mind. She simply lay there with Quinn in her arms, stroking her hair and whispering to her that she was here and that it was okay, that Quinn was safe now.

The room was dark; somewhere in between sobs Rachel had switched off the lights on the night table. Quinn was breathing erratically. A soft hand still ran up and down her arm, occasionally through her hair while another was firmly on her hip, keeping her from completely coming apart.

At any moment Quinn could collapse, the seams would rip open, and all that would be left was a coward of a girl who couldn't admit to her husband that she was in love with a woman, a coward of a girl who couldn't even stand up for the woman she loved, a coward of a girl who had bullied the woman she loved.

She sniffled and nuzzled into Rachel's warm chest, pressing her ear against the skin. She could hear a steady yet soft heartbeat through the material, and clung onto it for her life. It was the only thing she could count on.

A few months ago she was straight, in love with Sam, married and about to have children.

Now she was lying in bed with Rachel Berry, in love with Rachel Berry, and seriously contemplating divorce.

Her heart wrenched at the mess she was in, but she tried to focus on the rhythm of Rachel's heart, letting it sing her to sleep better than any lullaby.

Quinn drifted off into a dream that she would not remember.

The last thing she would remember was the tender feel of Rachel's smooth fingers threading through her hair and the intoxicating smell of her shampoo and the haunting melody her heart had sung her to sleep.

When Quinn's eyes fluttered open an intruding ray of sunlight shined upon her face. As her surroundings came into focus, she shifted slightly but could not move.

She was still in Rachel's arms. Rachel hadn't let go.

Quinn's eyes gazed down at the woman holding tightly onto her.

Her face was serene with her eyes fluttering slightly and her plump lips curled into a soft smile as her chest gently rose and fell with her shallow breaths. Without thinking, Quinn raised her finger to the girl's face and pulled back a stray lock of dark brown hair, her skin barely grazing over Rachel's soft lightly tanned skin.

She was perfect.

Everything felt perfect, even though it wasn't.

Quinn would need to talk to Sam, and she would have to talk to Rachel, and would have to talk to her parents. There would be tears and yelling and divorce papers and a whole lot of change that Quinn was not even close to being ready for.

Rachel sighed, nose wrinkling briefly, and pulled Quinn closer.

Quinn smiled.

Somehow, everything still felt perfect.


	13. Chapter 13

"Bye, Dad! Bye, Daddy!" Rachel called out cheerfully after her parents, whose hands were entwined, as they walked into the chilled air towards their car.

As she shut out the winter breeze, she turned to face her now empty home with a sigh. It was Sunday night, and Rachel Berry was home with the entire house to herself. It was a rarity to say the least.

On a normal Sunday evening, the starlet would be standing behind a thick red velvet curtain, her hands shaking with adrenaline, anticipating its rise. Due to a lack of tickets purchased, the Sunday night show had been cancelled rewarding the brunette with a surprise day off. Her first thought was to run to her phone and call Quinn to invite her over. Then she remembered the conversation they had had just a few hours earlier.

-/-

"Hello, Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed after she had seen the blonde's name on the bright screen of her cell phone.

"Hey," she replied quietly.

Rachel immediately noted the tired, melancholy tone of her best friend and was concerned.

"Is everything alright?"

There was silence on the other end of the line, only causing her anxiety to rise.

"Yeah, I just have a bit of…" (the pause was deafening) "bad news."

Rachel didn't like where this was going.

"What's the bad news?"

Quinn sighed, "Well I heard about the show being cancelled because they called me to tell me that I should pick up the money I paid for my ticket. I was planning on surprising you actually, but that plan fell through. My parents overheard me telling Sam about it at church this morning. My father," her voice broke, "wants to have dinner tonight as a… family now that I don't have plans."

Rachel was a bit confused.

"Wait, why is this bad news for me?"

"Well, I was sort of hoping to spend tonight with you, together. But now my father…"

Quinn didn't need to continue her sentence because Rachel already understood why this impromptu "family" dinner qualified as bad news.

"It's alright. Although I would have loved to have spent the evening with you, and was actually planning on asking you myself, I don't want to upset your father. We'll talk later."

"Wait-,"

Rachel abruptly snapped her phone closed and released a shaky breath. She understood Quinn's father, what he has done to her, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

Russell Fabray was a raging homophobe; he despised her fathers and in turn despised her and had forbidden Quinn to befriend her when they were children because he assumed that Rachel was just like her fathers, gay as a rainbow.

But being raised in the presence of two gay men had not made Rachel secure about her sexuality. She had dated only four boys in her life, all but one making a severe impact on her life. None of them, save for Finn, had made her feel the way she was supposed to. There were no butterflies or accelerated heartbeats with Jesse or Puck or even Sam for that brief, blink and you missed it moment in high school when Finn had left her for Quinn and both Sam and she had wanted to make the other jealous.

Rachel Berry hadn't felt anything remotely close to love until she met Quinn Fabray as a washed up Lima, Ohio actress five years after their graduation. Her palms had moistened, and her heartbeat had sped up.

As she had drunk in the woman for the first time in five years, Rachel Berry had lost herself in hazel swirls and perfect blonde hair. It scared her, truly it did. She was supposed to hate Quinn, not admire her flawless figure and porcelain skin. The girl had made her life a living hell for two years and then proceeded to basically ignore her for the next two, aside from the points when they battled for the other's boyfriend.

Yes, her parents were gay, but that didn't mean she was automatically okay with the prospect of being gay herself.

Every time her fingers threaded through Quinn's or she felt a slender hand wrap itself securely around her petite waist, Rachel felt overwhelming warmth she had never felt before. It was that feeling that helped prevent her fear and confusion from precluding her friendship with Quinn.

And now she stood in her empty foyer unsure of how to spend her evening.

She decided to go upstairs and see if there was anything remotely interesting that she could do. As her small feet padded up the soft-carpeted stairs, Rachel remembered something in her closet.

She ran into her room and into the closet. After some digging, she found a small box, brown and worn, that she had kept after she repainted her bedroom. She dramatically brought it over to her bed and sat Indian style on the soft comforter. One deep breath and a sigh later, Rachel finally removed the top of the box. Her breath caught into her throat as she looked down into the contents of the box.

A single rose, now shriveled up and frail, lay on top of a clean white card. With shaking hands, Rachel picked up the card and traced her thumb over the reassuring words. The instant she felt the word paper in her hands, the same feeling she had the night she received it returned to her so quickly that she didn't even realize she began to cry.

It was her most prized possession. Whoever had given it to her had made her believe in herself more than she had ever before. And she promised herself that the moment she discovered who wrote it for her she would thank them until they begged her to stop.

She placed the card back into the box, wiping away her tears in the process, and pulled out a sleek silver camera. As her fingers felt the smooth plastic, she remembered the nights she spent singing her heart out to the inanimate object as if it were a living, breathing audience. For a few minutes, she would lose herself in the music singing until she was brought abruptly back to reality when the degrading comments flooded her MySpace page.

_Get sterilized._

She hadn't recorded one in ages. A light bulb went on above her head. Quickly, Rachel returned to her closet and brought out her tripod and extended the legs. After positioning the camera at the right height, the same as high school since she still hadn't grown an inch since then, Rachel realized that she didn't even know what she was going to sing.

As she began to run through her endless repertoire, the harsh pitch of her doorbell interrupted her thoughts. She shoved the camera and box back into her closet, suddenly ashamed by her attempt to revive her high school traditions, and raced down the stairs.

The instant she swung the door open, her heart breath hitched at who awaited her on the other side of the door. Quinn Fabray stood before her with labored breathing and tears running down her flushed cheeks as she choked on the cool winter air.

Rachel didn't care what was wrong or what had happened. All she knew was that she wanted to fix it and make it better. So she pulled Quinn's shaking hand into hers and brought her into her home, closing out the world with the slam of her door.

Carefully, Rachel guided her upstairs into her bedroom and onto her bed. After taking off Quinn's shoes and pulling down the covers, Rachel brought the woman into her arms and under the warm blankets. Quinn shuddered and shook and wheezed in and out as she released sob after sob.

All Rachel did was hold her, her arms never relinquishing their grip, even when she felt tired towards the end because she had lost track of how long the woman had been crying for. Rachel had to stay strong, and she would never let go.

Rachel began to stroke her soft arm and entangle her fingers in her blonde hair. It was remarkable how Quinn seemed to fit perfectly in her embrace, how perfect it felt to have her in her arms, how it made her heart pound and mind calm at the same time. Her scent overtook the brunette; the aroma was intoxicating.

After about fifteen minutes, the sobbing ceased. The frail body in her arms became still, save for the hypnotizing rise and fall of her chest. Rachel continued rubbing her back until she was sure Quinn was asleep.

Finally, a calm haze overtook the two and Rachel simply stared at the blonde as she breathed in and out. Her lips were still, her eyes fluttering as she dreamed while safely in Rachel's arms. It amazed Rachel how someone so beautiful could exist and actually want to be her friend because Quinn truly was stunning, even after crying for three hours.

A feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that Russell Fabray was behind this breakdown. She never understood why the Fabrays hated her family, hated her father.

Still, early on, Rachel accepted the fact that she and Quinn could never be friends, but then high school happened. Quinn began to bully her but not for the reasons Rachel thought she would have made fun of her for.

She made fun of her because Quinn thought Rachel was ugly, nerdy, stupid, and worthless. And it hurt. It hurt that Quinn actually believed what her father believed and it made high school hell, until Quinn was kicked out of her house, until Quinn became human.

It was then, that Rachel decided to give friendship a try. Unfortunately, Quinn refused, only cementing the idea that she hated her into the ground. So they tolerated each other, passing each other in the hallways without a word, though Rachel was dying to wave or smile. She still wanted to make that little girl in the window smile.

Rachel would be lying if she said she didn't have feelings for Quinn Fabray. She has known that she didn't just want to be Quinn's BFF since their coffee… outing.

There has always been _something_ about the girl that captivated Rachel like no one had ever captivated her before. Something about her smile, her confident gait, the way she could humiliate someone with the snap of her fingers made her feel something completely foreign yet completely exhilarating.

The night of their… coffee hangout Rachel couldn't hold back her feelings for much longer. Despite their rocky past, Rachel was more than willing after that evening to put it behind her, move one, and run head first into a friendship she had longed for ever since she was seven years old staring at the sad blonde in the window of a large white house.

And now she had it. Now she was here, holding her best friend in her arms, rocking her to sleep and she wanted more. It surprised her, this new desire.

Rachel Berry always wanted things too much, but she had never wanted to kiss someone this much. She had never wanted to hold anyone closer, make anyone smile wider and laugh louder, and love anyone harder until she met Quinn.

But loving Quinn meant having to face Russell Fabray. It meant having to somehow get Sam out of the picture. And then there was the possibility, the terrifying possibility, of facing Quinn. What if Quinn didn't feel the same?

It was impossible. It had to be. Quinn had to love her back.

Right?

Rachel had never had a best friend like this. She had never wanted to be around anyone this much. Could she have created this fantasy in her mind as she had done so many times before?

It was a prospect that horrified her but seeing Quinn so tranquil, her lips slightly parted and eyes gently closed, made Rachel dismiss her fears. Before she could stop herself, Rachel leaned down and placed a light kiss onto her smooth cheek. Her lips were tingling as she lifted her head to gaze upon the sleeping beauty.

Quinn's lips formed into a soft smile and she nuzzled closer into Rachel's pounding chest. It was enough for Rachel to know she would wait until Quinn came to her. She would never hurt Sam by cheating with Quinn. No, if she was going to have Quinn she was going to have her the right way. Content with her plan, the brunette yawned and tightened her grip on the blonde as she let herself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

-/-

As she felt a smooth finger trace up and down her arm, Rachel slowly opened her eyes to meet the loving gaze of Quinn Fabray.

"Morning," the blonde whispered in a husky voice causing Rachel to shiver.

"Hey," she breathed back, soaking in the warmth from the sunlight and from Quinn.

Rachel's arms were still firmly around Quinn's waist, only now Quinn's hand had snaked around her and pulled her even closer. They could feel the other's warm breath on their cheeks. It was moment so intimate that neither wanted it to end. Instead, Rachel raised her hand and brushed her thumb over her jawbone.

"How are you?" she asked, still unaware of the reason Quinn had been so upset the night before.

Quinn sighed and shifted out of Rachel's arms. She propped herself up onto her elbow and looked back to her concerned best friend.

"The truth?" she asked.

"Always."

"I went to dinner with my parents last night."

Rachel had no idea how dramatic Quinn could be.

"I am aware. What happened?"

She paused.

"Well, after our… after we hung out the other night Sam and I sort of got into an argument."

"About…"

Quinn's eyes dropped, no longer deeply staring into Rachel's.

"You," she whispered.

"What?"

"He-he asked me what was going on between us," she said shakily, her breath becoming more ragged as her eyes began to well with tears.

Rachel's eyes widened, trying not to feel happy about Sam's sudden increase in perception.

"What did you say?"

Quinn released a breath as she looked out the window, trying desperately not to cry. Rachel's happiness was fleeting as her heart broke at the sight of the woman she had fallen for.

This wouldn't be simple. No, it would be complicated, so very complicated. Sam had always been in the equation, but she never realized how hard it would be for Quinn.

"I told him you were my best friend."

Rachel tried not to smile. She had never been anyone's real best friend before.

"But then he asked me who he was to me and," her head bowed as she suppressed a sob, "I couldn't answer."

"He's your husband, Quinn," Rachel stated.

Quinn leapt out of bed, suddenly infuriated by the situation.

"Don't you think I know that?" she yelled, surprised by the volume of her voice.

"He hasn't looked at me for the past two days. Then yesterday my father had to have that fucking dinner party with my mother. Sam told him that we were hanging out a lot, more than I was with him, and my father asked what was going on with us. I told him to mind his own business."

Rachel gasped.

"He-," her voice broke, "he called your dads faggots and then I slapped him before he could insult you. Before I could stop myself I ripped off that goddamned tablecloth from the table and ran out before he could, before he could…" she couldn't finish her sentence, the reality of her situation dawning on her as she stopped pacing the room.

She ran her shaking fingers through her messy hair, trying to hold on to the small bit of control she had though it was quickly slipping out of her grasp.

"Rachel, I couldn't answer. Why couldn't I answer?" she asked helplessly.

Rachel slowly got out of the bed and walked over to Quinn.

"Do you love him, Quinn?" Rachel asked as she stood face to face with Quinn.

Quinn's eyes cast downwards towards the floor as she contemplated her answer.

"No," she breathed, and Rachel released the breath she had been holding.

For some reason, this was more important to Rachel than Quinn declaring her love for her. Rachel took Quinn's chin and lifted it up so their eyes could meet. Two hazel eyes gazed back at her with a look of utter confusion, pain, and longing. Tears threatened to fall, but Rachel wouldn't let them. She brushed away the small droplets of water and asked her one final question.

"What is going on with us, Quinn?"

The sun had finally risen and the light flooded the room illuminating the woman standing before her. Her eyes glistened with tears yet she was stunning. Rachel's breath caught in her throat, and it took all she had not to kiss her then and there.

She couldn't cause Quinn any more pain than she already was enduring. Quinn shook her head and placed her hand over Rachel's that was currently stroking her cheek. The gesture stopped Rachel's heart as she felt a surge of electricity run through her.

Quinn moved her hand and brushed away a lock of hair from Rachel's cheek. Rachel shivered at the touch yet wanted more. It was a desire stronger than she had ever felt before. A fire ignited in the pit of her stomach as she longed to encompass that pair of soft lips with her own. Her breathing became arduous; her heart beat increased as she felt Quinn's breath hit her cheek.

"Quinn," she breathed as her eyes closed.

She felt a shift in the blonde's movement causing her eyes to immediately open. Something had changed. Quinn was no longer shaking or scared. She looked suddenly confident.

"Rachel," she began, taking a tan hand in hers, "I don't want to be best friends with you anymore."

Rachel's heart dropped.

"What?"

Quinn's lips curled into a nervous smile as she squeezed the hand in hers.

"I want so much more."


	14. Chapter 14

A light snow began to fall as Quinn Fabray walked down the sidewalks of Lima, Ohio towards her house on a chilled winter morning. Her hands were shoved into her jacket pockets and her hair was still slightly messed up from the night prior. A small smile resided on her face as she recalled about twenty minutes earlier.

-/-

"I want so much more," Quinn said softly, hoping that she wasn't making a fool of herself.

The wide and bright smile she received proved to her that she hadn't made a fool of herself.

"You do?" Rachel whispered, her body moving closer to Quinn's with each second.

Quinn nodded as her thumb traced reassuring circles on the hand in hers. Their foreheads were touching, warm skin on warm skin, and all that could be heard was the steady beating of their hearts which was synchronized as their lips moved closer and closer with each passing second. Quinn's lips tingled, longing to taste the pair just a few centimeters away from her. She felt her heart beat accelerate as she saw Rachel's tongue moisten her bottom lip.

Then something changed.

"Rachel," she breathed.

Rachel sensed her hesitance and pulled away slowly. Somehow she always knew what Quinn was feeling.

"I know," Rachel whispered, her hot breath enveloping the blonde.

Quinn felt the warm hand in hers give a squeeze, a silent understanding.

"Soon," Quinn said with a look of newfound conviction.

Rachel nodded and ran her thumb over her cheek once more. It sent shivers down Quinn's spine. There was nothing more she wanted in this moment than to kiss Rachel, to hold her in her arms and stroke her hair and just be with her.

There was only one thing stopping her.

"I should talk to Sam," she said quietly as she pulled Rachel back over to sit on the bed.

Rachel nodded solemnly.

"You should," she replied as Quinn wrapped her arm around Rachel.

They sighed, neither wanting to face the world outside of Rachel's bedroom. Neither wanted to face Sam, nor Quinn's parents, nor anyone that would threaten the peace felt whenever they were together.

"What about your father?" Rachel asked quietly, her voice resembling that of a small, scared child.

Quinn pulled Rachel closer into her.

"How are you going to convince him? How are we going to do this? How are we going to survive your divorce and your parents hatred and -,"

"Rachel," Quinn interrupted.

Rachel was instantly blushing.

"Listen to me, we'll figure it out. I don't really know what's going to happen with my parents or Sam, but I know that I don't want to lose you. I'll do anything to prevent that from happening, even if it means losing Sam and my parents. So we're going to make it. We're going to get through all of this crap so I can kiss you, okay?"

Rachel beamed and placed a chaste kiss onto Quinn's cheek.

"Okay."

-/-

Quinn was off to face one of her two demons: her husband, Sam. The previous night she had stupidly ran off without a car to Rachel's home not thinking about what would happen the next morning. Although she was stuck walking for a good twenty minutes in the freezing cold, she had no regrets.

A feeling of dread swirled around in the pit of her stomach as she approached her house. Eventually Quinn arrived at her home frozen and staring dumbly at the front door. With a deep breath, she turned the doorknob and entered silently into her quiet home knowing it would probably be her last time calling it hers. She took off her coat, hung it inside of the closet, and kicked off her shoes.

"Sam?" she called nervously.

She made her way into the living room, where she heard the muffled sound of a football game emanating from their television set. Sam sat in his armchair with a beer in hand and dark circles under his eyes. He didn't turn around when he heard Quinn enter the room.

"Sam?" Quinn repeated once more.

There were several empty beer bottles littering the hardwood floor that were accompanied by two empty pizza boxes.

"I know what's going on," he said as he finally turned around to face his wife.

He was a mess. His eyes were puffy and tired and hurt. The normally well-groomed hair on his head was tossed in every direction. Her heart wrenched, but she couldn't keep feeling sorry for him. She had to end it.

"You do?" she asked nervously.

He nodded and rose from the chair.

"Yeah I do," he said monotonously as he walked over to their kitchen table.

Quinn followed and sat opposite the man she had married, her hands clasped together.

"What do you know?"

"I was out for lunch with a few guys from the office last week. We were right by that little bowling alley we used to go to, and I remembered you saying you'd be there so I ditched the guys and ran over to the alley with a coffee for you. When I got there I saw you and Rachel. You were teaching her how to bowl and she was laughing and she had this big smile on her face. People were staring at you guys but I don't think you noticed at all. But what really surprised me was that you were laughing too. You were smiling in a way I've never seen you smile before. And that's when I realized the reason I have never seen you smile that way before. It's because I can't make you smile like that. Only she can."

Quinn swallowed thickly as Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his blonde mop of hair, trying to compose himself but failing miserably. He was a wreck.

"I also know why you're here, Quinn," he said barely above a whisper.

She stared at him, waiting for him to continue; when he didn't, she spoke up.

"I live here," she said rather coolly.

He winced and she immediately regretted the comment; it was a bit harsh.

"Quinn, look, I know what's going on with you and Rachel."

"You do?" she asked weakly.

Sam looked up and into Quinn's hazel eyes, revealing the pain the revelation was causing him.

"Yes," he breathed and his eyes cast downwards towards his fingers.

Quinn braced herself for the yelling, cursing, and screaming; but they never came. When her eyes returned to Sam, he was simply staring at her as a few tears fell from his deep blue eyes. His large frame shook momentarily.

"Sam, I-," she began, but he cut her off.

"Please, Quinn," he begged, "just be honest with me. Did you kiss her? Have you… done it with her? Do you love her?"

Her facial expression faltered at the last question.

A shooting pain rippled through her heart. She had no idea how hard this was going to be.

"We haven't kissed or done anything but," she took a deep breath, "yes. I love her," she managed to get out, her breathing raged as she awaited his response.

"Tell me about her," he whispered desperately.

"Sam, I don't think that's a good-,"

"Please," he croaked.

She swallowed thickly.

"Rachel is my…" Quinn took a moment to breath. "Rachel is that kind of person that lights up a room the moment she enters it. I have never seen her without a smile on her face. I know she's crazy sometimes and a bit of a diva, but she is one of the most remarkable people I know. Infectious, I think, is the word for her personality. Yeah, infectious. Her smile, her laugh, her happiness is contagious to all around her, spreading faster than wild fire, without the immediate damage, but rather immediate warmth. I-," her speech wavered as she heard Sam release a sob.

The room was silent. Quinn reached out and took one of his shaking hands giving it a squeeze.

"Did you ever love me like that?" he asked, his baby blue eyes gazing at her hopefully.

Quinn thought back to high school, trying to remember if she had ever had these feelings for that new kid who had joined Glee her junior year. She remembered his love for Avatar, his obsession with the planets and stars, the way he played the guitar effortlessly. She remembered cleaning him off that first day, their first date, and their many duets. But the moment that stood out was the day in that astronomy classroom when Sam proposed to be her boyfriend, to be true, to honor her and never pressure her, and to love her forever. The instant he lowered himself onto one knee, her heart had begun to race. His hair fell just above his sparkling blue eyes as he pulled his lip in between his teeth, his hands shaking and holding a simple promise ring. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the open window causing his skin to glow and his eyes to shine. And she had answered maybe because she was too scared to admit that she might actually have the same feelings for him. She was too scared to repeat the past.

"Yes," she said quietly, "I did. You were the first boy to treat me right. You were the first boy that wanted to be with me for something other than my popularity. Although towards the end of high school, I had a feeling you were using me."

His head shot up, ready to defend himself but she hushed his petty excuses.

"It's okay, Sam. We are being honest right?"

He nodded.

"Well, towards the end of it I think I began to use you too. And I am so sorry for that, but there was a reason I dated you in the first place. The man I fell in love with was so much better than the man I am staring at now."

"What do you mean?"

"The Sam I fell in love with wasn't afraid of what my parents thought of him. He loved Avatar and made goofy impressions and knew how to make me smile. He didn't take himself so seriously and wasn't afraid to joke around and be a total goofball. He was the kind of guy who made grand, sometimes stupid, gestures of love like proposing with a promise ring after dating for only a month or getting an absurd haircut and singing Justin Bieber to me in front of the entire Glee club. The Sam I fell in love with wasn't afraid to be who he was."

Sam wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"What changed?"

"We changed. We're not the quarterback and head cheerleader anymore, Sam. This isn't high school. This is life. We've grown up."

"I know," he said, his voice heavy with regret.

Their hands were still together but it didn't seem to give Quinn that warm feeling she felt when she held hands with Rachel.

"So, now what?" she dared to ask.

Sam pulled his hand out of hers.

"We get a divorce," he said matter-of-factly.

Her eyes widened

"A divorce?" she asked in disbelief.

"Look, Quinn, you know I love you, probably always will," he said softly, his voice cracking on the word love, "but this marriage isn't working. I know it, you know it, hell, even Rachel knows it. She's known from the start. I'm not good for you anymore, Quinn. I used to be, and I know you're good for me, but not like this. I can't be with you if you're in love with someone else. You're better off without me. I make your life miserable. You won't have sex with me anymore. We never kiss or go out alone together. I work, you hang out with Rachel. The only time we're together is at your parents' house for dinner every week. We're not happy anymore. We're not in love."

"I'm so sorry, Sam."

He tried to smile, his large lips curling upwards but immediately falling downwards. Quinn's heart broke as she broke his heart.

She took his hand and brought it up to her lips, kissing it softly and letting her lips linger as she felt a sigh of relief escape her husband's lips. It was that sigh that enabled Quinn to know that she could move on. She had to know that Sam was going to be okay. She released his hand with a squeeze and smiled sadly at the man in front of her. He had really grown since their first encounter, such a different person than the boy she had dated in high school.

"Hey, Quinn?" Sam asked quietly, his voice dripping with vulnerability.

"Yes?"

He looked into her eyes, a tear traveling down his cheek silently, on the verge of a meltdown.

"Can you just do one last thing for me?"

"Anything," she whispered.

"Can-," he began, "can you just stay here tonight? Just one more night with you, no sex, just-," his voice broke, "I just want to hold you one more time before I let you go."

She felt the sting of hot fresh tears running down her cheeks as she nodded furiously. His composure finally broke and he enveloped the woman in what would be their last embrace as a married couple, as husband and wife. If that was all that Sam wanted, than she'd give it to him. If that were all she needed to do in order to be with Rachel, then she'd do it.


	15. Chapter 15

A television lit up the dark master bedroom of Quinn Fabray and Sam Evans. Quinn shifted in her husband's arms as ESPN continued to blare throughout the empty room. Sam's hand was stroking her bare shoulder lightly, memorizing her skin in the short time he had left.

On the bedside table, Quinn's cell phone buzzed, sending out vibrations as loud as church bells into the silent room. Quinn wiggled out of Sam's arms to reach over and grab the phone

**Hey. How did everything go with Sam? How are you?**

**-R**

Quinn smiled, her heart warming at Rachel's message, and typed out her reply.

**I'm doing alright. I'm going to spend the night here with Sam but could I come over in the morning?**

Her thumb hesitated as she typed the last sentence.

**I need you**.

**-Q**

Once the green button was pressed, Quinn leaned back into a strong pair of arms and anxiously awaited Rachel's reply. Luckily, Rachel was a speedy texter.

**Of course you can come over!**

**-R**

Quinn quickly snatched the phone up, and then reread the message three times before formulating an appropriate response.

**Thanks, Rach. See you in the morning. Sweet dreams.**

**Xoxo Quinn**

With a smile, Quinn snapped the phone shut as butterflies began to fly around in her stomach, second guessing her "xoxo" signature. Her phone buzzed before she could send an apology.

**Sweet dreams, Quinn.**

**Xoxo Rach 3**

Quinn beamed as Sam's arm pulled her in closer, forcing her to put away the cell phone even though she wanted to reread the message again. He silently turned off the television with the click of the remote control. The room became pitch black, save for a sliver of moonlight that peeked out from behind the curtains.

It would be a sleepless night for the both of them.

It would also be their last night as husband and wife.

"Hey, Quinn?" Sam whispered into the dark.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" she breathed.

"For telling your dad about Rachel and everything. I just was really jealous and…well I regret doing it, especially now that…"

"Now that I love her," Quinn finished.

Quinn felt the body holding her tense.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

Quinn shivered as she envisioned herself dropping the bomb of her sexuality and divorce onto her parents, a vision that would become reality all too soon.

Sam pulled up the covers and wrapped himself tighter around Quinn. It didn't create nearly as much heat as Rachel's arms had the night prior, but Quinn let herself be held by her husband for one more night.

It was the only thing that kept away the nightmares, the memories of her father and the belt.

It was her last night of normalcy.

It was her last night of being Quinn Fabray-Evans.

As much as she wanted to be with Rachel, and she did, it was going to be hard to leave the safe and secure world she had created for herself.

Tomorrow morning, when that alarm clock rang, she would no longer have a husband.

She would no longer be a respectable Fabray.

Tomorrow morning she'd have to finally face her parents, face the world, but until then, she buried herself further underneath the warm blankets and shut her eyes hoping that sleep would come.

-/-

A strident alarm clock ripped the pair abruptly from sleep. Quinn opened her eyes slowly as she let out a silent yawn. As she turned over sleepily onto her stomach, she realized that Sam's arms were no longer wrapped around her thin waist.

Instead, she saw Sam's body turned away from her.

Quinn sat up in the bed with her back against the bedpost and looked over at her ex-husband who had turned over and now had his eyes trained on her very move.

"Good morning," she said softly.

He gave her a sad half-smile, the one that made him look like a wounded puppy, before he rolled out of bed and into the shower.

Quinn sighed, kicking off the comforter and hopping out of the bed. As she drew open back the curtains, a bright ray of sunlight pierced her hazel eyes. The sky was clear and the trees were bare. The sun reflected brightly off of the sparkling white snow on the ground. It was much too nice out considering all that had happened last night.

She and Sam had decided that Quinn would move out and Sam would keep the house since he basically was paying for it all along. Until the divorce was finalized, he'd stay in the house, and Quinn would hopefully stay with Rachel. Sam promised to call the family lawyer as soon as he could.

With a quick turn, Quinn walked to her closet and opened it with conviction. After a few minutes of searching she whipped out three brown medium-sized suitcases her mother had bought her for college. Her initials were engraved on the leather in a beautiful gold cursive. She threw them onto her bed and began filling them with every article of clothing she owned.

It was oddly cathartic, throwing random blouses and jeans into the three squared little bags. She furiously stuffed sock after sock, dress after dress, shoe after shoe, until all that was left were three filled suitcases and one empty closet.

It was that empty closet that made the divorce real. This was actually happening.

She was free.

Sam walked out of the bathroom with a skimpy white cotton towel around his waist. His abs were glistening with water, and his hair was soaking wet. As his eyes glanced over to the door and saw three suitcases sitting neatly on the floor, his bottom lip quivered as he walked over to his wife.

His ex-wife.

"So," he began softly.

Quinn couldn't look him in the eyes.

"I'm going to go over to Rachel's for a while. And I'll come back later to start packing my stuff."

Quinn picked up the bags, obviously struggling, and tried to exit the room.

"Here," Sam offered as he snatched one of the bags out of her hands.

She nodded, a silent apology, and the two walked down the stairs to the door. Sam held the door open for Quinn after she had gotten her coat and shoes from the closet. They walked out to her car and stuffed the suitcases into the trunk.

Quinn shivered as Sam shut the trunk loudly. He gazed at her from behind as she entered the vehicle and strapped herself inside. As she pulled out of the driveway, she let down the window and offered a small smile and wave.

All he could do was stare stoically, a tear sliding down his cheek, and hold up his hand as he watched his wife drive off to the house of the woman she was leaving him for.

-/-

Rachel sat on her living room couch staring at the window clutching her cell phone. It was nine in the morning. Rachel had already been up for five hours. She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. The night had been spent tossing and turning as she worried endlessly about Quinn.

Now time seemed to be moving at the speed of a snail as she watched the second hand tick its way around the clock. Her parents were still out on their romantic get away and had called earlier in the morning to assure their daughter that they were alright and coming home the next day. The fatigue was finally starting to become evident so she decided to rest her eyes until Quinn came home.

Twenty minutes later Rachel was sent flying off of the couch and onto the hardwood floor at the clamorous sound of her doorbell. Rachel jumped off of the floor and practically tripped over herself and every piece of furniture she owned to get to the door. The wooden door swung open, and she greeted Quinn with a warm smile.

"Good morning," she said, drinking in the woman in front of her.

Quinn was still wearing her clothes from the day before. A pair of worn jeans hugged her curves and a casual sweatshirt hung over her frail shoulders. Her eyes were dim, the hazel lacking its usual spark, and there were dark circles underneath them indicating that she hadn't slept well in days.

"Hey," Quinn managed to get out.

Her face contorted in pain as her lower lip quivered.

"Hey," Rachel cooed as she pulled Quinn into her house.

Rachel guided Quinn to her couch and then ran outside into the cold to grab her bags. As soon as the door was closed she was back on the couch with an arm around Quinn's shuddering body.

"Remember what you told me, Quinn," she said softly as Quinn buried herself in Rachel's hair inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

"We're going to make it."

Quinn's makeup was running down her cheeks, her eyes were red and puffy, but the instant Rachel said those five words, her face brightened and took Rachel's breath away.

Quinn Fabray was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

With a delicate hand, Rachel wiped away the makeup with her thumb, the contact causing Quinn to shiver.

Nothing was holding them back anymore. Rachel's eyes reached Quinn's lips.

An intense shot of desire coursed through Rachel's veins. Their foreheads inched closer and closer together and their eyes were locked in a deep stare, green swirls colliding with chocolate brown. They could feel the warm breath emanating from the other's lips, letting the scent invade their nostrils and intoxicate their souls.

Their bodies were still close, but never close enough. Rachel's hand was around Quinn's waist and Quinn's was caressing her cheek, a touch that caused her skin to tingle. As their foreheads touched Quinn dipped her head lower and enveloped the Rachel's lips in hers, causing a sensation so overwhelming, so intense, that she gasped into the lips against hers. It was a fleeting moment, for just as their lips caressed the other, they parted and both became extremely still, both afraid of it being a dream, both afraid of waking up and returning to their old miserable lives.

"God," Rachel whimpered as she shut her eyes.

"Rach?" Quinn asked with a volume just barely above a whisper.

Rachel felt one of Quinn's fresh hot tears fall onto her skin.

"Yes?"

"Can you just hold me?"

Rachel placed a gentle kiss on Quinn's lips.

"Always," she whispered as she pulled back and took Quinn's hand gently.

They climbed the stairs slowly Quinn's eyes trained on Rachel, up to Rachel's room. Once inside of the room, the two dove underneath the covers and immediately Quinn was in Rachel's arms. An overpowering feeling of familiarity surged through the two, the position they were in as natural as breathing. Rachel's heart was pounding, the desire to kiss her again growing exponentially with each minute. All she could do was hang on and listen to the sound of Quinn breathing in and out.

"Rachel?" Quinn asked once more.

"Yes?" she answered.

"Why does this feel so good?"

Rachel felt a smile tug at her lips. A soft silence filled the room.

"Because it's all I've ever wanted," Rachel responded simply and kissed the top of Quinn's head.

They were going to make it.


	16. Chapter 16

Nine perfectly packaged boxes sat stacked against the wall in the foyer of Quinn Fabray's home. A pink and purple bedazzled label maker had labeled each one accurately an hour earlier.

Quinn stood in front of the stack and sighed.

Her entire life fit inside of nine boxes.

"Hey," a voice accompanied by two soft hands on her shoulders said softly.

Quinn closed her eyes relished the delicate circles Rachel was rubbing into her tightly knotted shoulders as she felt her stress melt away almost instantly. A sigh of relief escaped her lips and Rachel smiled.

"How are you holding up," Rachel asked quietly, her voice laced with concern.

How was she holding up?

She was divorcing her husband.

She was divorcing her husband for a woman.

And she was about to tell her parents everything over Walmart ham.

Pregnancy was temporary. Being in love with Rachel was anything but temporary.

Quinn being gay could not be erased in nine months, couldn't be neatly hidden under the rug next to all of the Fabray family secrets.

"I'm fine," Quinn mumbled stoically.

Rachel's hands stopped their movements. She reached down and grasped Quinn's vacant hand.

"You don't have to act like everything is okay, Quinn. Because everything isn't okay."

"I know," Quinn whispered.

"Listen to me," Rachel said sternly but with care as she propped Quinn's chin up with her hand. "I know tonight's dinner with your parents will be difficult for you, and I would be more than willing to accompany you in case things get… out of hand."

Quinn squeezed the hand in hers gently. Rachel was staring earnestly at her with eyes filled with unrelenting compassion and concern.

Quinn felt like she didn't deserve those beautiful eyes and unconditional love. Quinn was the bitch that bullied her to no end, diminished her self-confidence with demoralizing names and taunting, drew pornographic pictures of her for the entire girl population at McKinley to see, ordered and threw some of her own slushies at her, and hurt her because she was stupid and jealous and probably even then in love.

Who was she kidding; of course she was in love then.

-/-

The night of Regionals Quinn could tell that Rachel was feeling nervous. She was unusually quite, which was always a sure sign that something was wrong, and she kept biting at her thumb while Mr. Schuester was giving his always inspirational speech about how winning doesn't matter, that he loved them blah blah blah.

For the entire duration of the speech, Quinn's eyes were set on Rachel trained on her every move. No nibble of her digit, fix of the hair, or flit of her eyes went unnoticed by Quinn.

Afterwards, when Rachel went off to her dressing room, Quinn snuck away to her own dressing room. Santana and Brittany had run off to find a bathroom so the room was deserted. She went to her station. Making a bee line towards her unusually large duffle bag, she pulled out a bouquet of flowers she had bought during the club's time to roam the city with a chaperone.

Her chaperone had been Carl, Emma's husband, and he had let the kids go off and do as they pleased with thanks to his chill personality. She pulled out her black pen and sturdy white card. With a deep breath, she wrote the words she lacked the courage to say out loud to Rachel's face.

"You are incredible, Rachel Barbara Berry. Don't let anyone stop you from believing it. You will be here again, one day, showing the world just how talented you truly are. Break a leg."

She signed it with a heart and tucked it away inside of the roses and baby's breath. Suddenly, her stomach began to churn as she took a shaky breath. With a quick nod to herself, Quinn walked quietly towards Rachel, Tina, and Mercede's dressing room, her black heels clicking throughout the halls.

The door was open so Quinn peered inside; her eyes immediately caught Rachel's figure. She was facing the window, thinking most likely. Her dress flowed perfectly in ripples down her back, and her hair fell over the front of her toned shoulders.

Finally, Quinn walked as quietly as she could into the room and placed her gift carefully on the table. Rachel did not turn around, and Quinn escaped down the hall where she found herself being herded to take a photo. When Rachel emerged from her room, she was beaming with bright tan skin and sparkling eyes. She was the strong willed, confident, star with a contagious smile that Quinn had grown to love.

Carl took the photo of the smiling group, Rachel grinning brightly with Quinn smiling at Rachel.

And then they won Nationals.

And then everything seemed easy.

Until everything became hard.

-/-

Quinn's head swooped down and her lips caught Rachel's off guard in a reassuring kiss. Their lips fused together, soft skin on soft skin, and though it was ephemeral the two parted never being more content.

"I want you there, but Rachel, I need to warn you about my father he-,"

She was cut off by Rachel's lips gently pressed against hers.

"I don't care about your father, Quinn. I care about you," Rachel breathed.

Never in her life had Quinn been so relieved to hear those four words. The tears welling up inside of her eyes threatened to fall but she commanded them to stop.

"Why don't we go out to the café and get some lunch? What do you say?" Quinn offered with a fresh smile.

Rachel beamed.

"I'd love to."

Thre hours later, the pair tumbled into Rachel's house with laughter.

"That was a disaster!" Quinn exclaimed.

Lunch had turned into mid-afternoon tea too quickly, the hours passing like minutes, and the girls finally surrendered and left their cozy café to return to the house to gather Quinn's belongings. Their fingers were entwined, and Quinn laughed heartily as she helped Rachel with her winter coat, sliding the arms gracefully off of the woman's slender arms.

"It wasn't my fault!" Rachel cried in defense.

Quinn threw their coats on two hangers with her back towards the open living room and hung them up in the closet. As she turned around she felt something unsettling. Something wasn't right. Rachel noticed Quinn's change in demeanor.

"What is it?" she asked.

The scent of freshly poured liquor traveled from the living room into Quinn's nostrils leaving her frozen in the foyer.

"My parents are here," Quinn whispered.

Slowly, Quinn turned around and met the infuriated and penetrating glare of her father and the petrified gaze of her mother. Her eyes darted from the coffee table now hosting two glasses of liquor to her ex-husband on the opposite couch with a look akin to a deer in headlights.

"Dad?" was all she could manage to get out.

His eyes pierced straight through her, burning holes in her complexion.

"Quinn Elizabeth Fabray," he said in a terrifyingly soft voice, "Would you mind explaining to your mother and I what is going on?"

Frozen with fear, Quinn could only gape; a warm hand encompassed hers and pulled her from out of shock. She looked to Rachel as she gave her hand a squeeze and smiled an encouraging smile. Quinn cleared her throat and approached her parents.

"What are you doing here?" she choked out, humiliated by how weak she was coming across.

"What are we doing here?" he asked with a hollow laugh. "Your mother and I thought we'd surprise you and your husband with a potluck dinner Judy spent the morning preparing. Little did we know you were about to move out and divorce the poor man. Now, answer my question, young lady. What is going on?"

Quinn took a deep breath and focused on the hand holding hers; it was the only thing that was keeping her from falling apart.

"Sam and I have decided to separate."

"Don't be smart with me," he scolded.

Quinn flinched back as she saw his hand move. She took a steading breath. She was not a little girl subservient to her father anymore. She was an adult.

"We're getting a divorce, and I'm going to move out as soon as possible."

"Were you planning on telling us? Or were you just going to let us find out through the grape vine? How can you throw away everything we've made for you? Everything has been perfect and of course you ruin it. I shouldn't be surprised."

"Perfect? Really, Dad? You think my life is perfect? Are you blind? I'm miserable here. You have predictably chosen to ignore it and pretend everything is fine when you know it's not. _I_ shouldn't be surprised," she threw back with venom laced in her voice.

"How dare you speak to me like that? Apologize immediately!" he yelled, his voice booming throughout the household.

Quinn released Rachel's hand, the anger overtaking her, and pushed her aside so she could fight the man who had made her life hell since the moment she was born.

"I'm not a little girl anymore, Dad. Can't you see that? I am a grown woman and I am capable of making my own choices. You think you can control me? You think you can scare me into not divorcing Sam? I'm not scared of you, Dad, not anymore. It turns out you're an even bigger coward than I am."

Russell couldn't respond, floored by the sudden audacity of his daughter. He merely gaped in disbelief.

"You want to know why Sam and I have decided to split? It's not because we cheated or suddenly hate each other. It's because we are not in love, Dad. We are miserable with each other and actually we're better off as friends than as a married couple."

Quinn looked to Rachel.

Everything was about to change.

Did she want this change?

Did she want to declare her love for the woman she had been waiting her whole life for?

Everything changing meant a future with Rachel.

It meant lazy Sundays lying in bed, listening to Broadway show tunes, caressing each other's warm body, just being. It meant kissing her goodnight, kissing her good morning, kissing her whenever she wanted to.

It meant breakfast at the coffee shop, bringing her flowers to every single one of her performances because she'd purchase a ticket for every single show the theater offered. It meant being able to hold her hand without guilt.

A future with Rachel meant giving her heart to the one person in her life that she trusted enough to protect it. And she would protect Rachel's if she ever let Quinn have her heart.

It was all she wanted. It was all she would ever want.

"Dad," Quinn began, taking a deep breath, "Sam and I are getting divorced because… because of Rachel."

The house came to a sudden silence, a deafening one. Her father smiled nervously

"You are divorcing this fine man… for that woman? I find that hilarious, don't you justy? You don't even know her," he sneered.

"Really? I don't know Rachel Berry?" she scoffed. "I find _that_ hilarious. I know her better than anyone. She is my best friend. I tell her everything and she tells me everything. She has the most incredible voice I have ever heard. She always orders green tea at the coffee shop next to the theater because it gives her enough energy to get through all of her performances as a cast member of the rigorous show _Rent_. Her favorite movie remains _Funny Girl_ and we've watched it twice-,"

"Three times," Rachel interrupted with a growing grin on her face.

"Sorry, three times. Whenever she gets excited her eyes light up and you can see these tiny speckles of light in them. She cannot bowl to save her life, has read _The Great Gatsby_ seventeen times and owns six copies, hates any form of negativity, keeps a rather obsessive collection of chapstick in her dressing room, and would rather die than miss a performance. She will never admit to it but she snores lightly yet always wakes up with abnormal amounts of energy and when she yawns her nose wrinkles and it's adorable and-,"

"Quinn," Rachel said softly as she retook her hand.

Quinn was now panting, out of breathing, and pacing a hole in the floor. Her mother's eyes were wide in shock. Sam stared at the carpet.

"What are you saying, Quinn?" her father asked quietly.

"Well, I guess what I am trying to say is that I know Rachel Berry because I'm in love with her."

Rachel's grip tightened as they braced themselves for the anger to come, but it never did.

Her parents sat staring at Quinn as if she had seven heads and a tail. Judy was speechless. Russell was suddenly unresponsive.

"Daddy?" she asked quietly, suddenly becoming that little girl in the uncomfortable Sunday dress and welts on the back of her knees.

His eyes met his daughter's matching hazel ones. They were pierced with pain and disappointment but void of anger.

"When you were born, I held you while your mother slept. In those quit hours, I pictured you, your life, how you would be the perfect daughter. You would be at the top of your class, leaps and bounds above your classmates, the prom queen and the most desirable girl in the school. You would go to college, Harvard was my guess, studying to become a lawyer or doctor. You would meet the man of your dreams and coming home with news of your engagement. I would pay for your wedding and walk you down the isle as a proud father. You would have grandchild after grandchild, perfect little boys, and live right next door. When I died I'd leave the world knowing you were successful," Russell breathed.

Tears streamed silently down his cheeks but he made no effort to wipe them away. Quinn's tears mirrored his, the sting of his disappointment more potent then ever before.

"You are a disgrace," he whispered.

Quinn was right back on that couch her junior year in high school, bloated, sitting next to her clueless boyfriend. As she felt the apology on the tip of her tongue, she stopped it from flowing out of her mouth.

"I am a disgrace because I'm in love with a woman?"

"No, you are a disgrace because you are not the daughter I thought I raised. I truly have no idea who you are."

Though Quinn had been well aware of this fact, her knowledge didn't prevent a sob to wrack her body.

Your mother and father are supposed to be the two people who know you best. And here Quinn sat as her father declared that she was disgrace and that he didn't know who she was; and he didn't. She didn't even know who she was anymore.

Everything was falling apart, her marriage, her family, her identity.

"Would you like to know who I am, Dad?" she asked quietly as her body shook.

Rachel's hand acted as an anchor, keeping her grounded to reality. She looked at her father uneasily, awaiting his response.

"No," he replied coldly as he took yet another gulp of the burning liquid.

She winced as the searing pain of rejection hit her with sudden and brute force. Her voice was caught in her throat, unable to form any coherent response.

What does one say when her father refuses to love her?

"You are no longer my daughter," he whispered, his voice wavering on the last word.

"What?"

He cleared his throat, his eyes averting Quinn's.

"You are no longer a Fabray. I can't look at you without wanting to vomit."

Quinn's mouth hung open as her body began to shake again, though this time Rachel's strong arms were there to steady her. Her mind was frozen.

The arms around her tightened their hold around her shaking frame.

"How can you just sit there?" Rachel asked suddenly in disbelief, her voice pulling Quinn out of her nearly catatonic state.

Rachel was staring at Judy Fabray who currently was wringing her hands together and biting her lip. Up until this point, the woman had not uttered a single syllable.

"Excuse me," Judy asked, trying to add a bit of venom but the words coming out insecure rather than venomous.

Rachel repeated herself.

"How can you just sit there as your husband abandons your daughter _again_?"

Quinn watched as her mother's face wavered and became a look of complete guilt. It was déjà vu to say the least. The question Rachel had just asked was one Quinn had been asking herself ever since the first time her father beat her.

"You have no right judging my wife. Who do you think you are?" her father boomed before his wife could utter a predictably petty excuse.

Rachel let go of Quinn to face the burly man in front of her, breathing in the revolting smell of alcohol and cologne.

"I think you are well aware of who I am Mr. Fabray," she said defiantly with a look of conviction.

He laughed maliciously.

"What a catch," he spat back mockingly towards his daughter.

"That's enough," a new voice interrupted.

Sam stood up from his perch on the couch and intervened.

He was sick of the fighting. He was sick of the Fabray's. He was sick of it all.

"I want you all out of my house," he said sternly.

Before any of them could protest, the man cut them all off.

"Mr. Fabray, Quinn wasn't the only one who wanted the divorce. It was my decision too. I've known her for a long time, though not nearly as long as you have, and I know our marriage is wrong. Quinn deserves happiness, right? Isn't that what you always wanted for her? Well, it's what I want for her and the only way she's going to get it is if she's with Rachel."

His words echoed throughout the house, resonating strongly within Quinn. Mr. Fabray straightened his coat jacket and grabbed his glass tightly, clinging on to the last bit of normalcy in his life.

"Come on Judy," he ordered. "Let's go. Dinner is getting cold at the house. We're wasting our time here."

He placed the glass back onto the table and proceeded towards the oak door.

"Judy?" he called as he grabbed his coat from the closet.

Judy Fabray stood up, tears running down her face, and approached her trembling daughter. She raised a hand to her and brushed a stray blonde lock away from her glistening hazel eyes.

Their eyes met, the older woman's eyes staring into her daughter deeply. Her eyes seemed to say it all.

I'm sorry. I love you. You will always be my daughter. It will be alright.

Quinn stared in awe of her mother for a moment before lunging forward to embrace her. It was a new feeling, a warm one, being held by her mother. She felt her hair being stroked gently by a firm hand as the other hand held her tightly. Before she could stop, she released a sob that only tightened the hug.

"Judy?"

The last time Quinn had been held by her mother was before her tenth birthday. Quinn closed her eyes, inhaled a whiff of her mother's perfume she had grown up with, and just tuned out the rest of the world. She tuned out Sam trying to get everyone to get out of his home. She tuned out her father calling for her mother to come home. For a few moments she just let herself be held by her mother.

"Judy!"

"Listen to me," she whispered into Quinn's ear softly. "I don't care about what he says, you are my daughter and I will protect you this time. I have failed you so many times in your life and I'm changing it now. I'm going to go home and end this but you hang in there, okay? Call me if you need anything."

Quinn smiled faintly and let herself out of her mother's arms. As she was turning away, Quinn remembered something.

"Mom!" she called out.

"Yes?" the woman responded.

"So you're okay with me and Rachel?" she asked seriously.

Her mother smiled brightly.

"I've never seen you happier."

With that her mother kissed her on the cheek and accompanied her husband out of the door, out of her life.

Quinn felt incredibly fatigued, her legs slowly giving out as she walked back to Rachel and Sam. Sam went to the table and into the kitchen to put away the glasses of alcohol the man had consumed during his short stay.

Rachel walked to her slowly. Their eyes met instantly, no words spoken, and their hands suddenly found each other. The pair walked towards the door, Quinn slung her duffle over her shoulder, and then they exited the house without a goodbye.

Once inside of the safety of the backseat of the car, Quinn's lip began to quiver. Rachel blasted the heat and still grasping her hand pulled her closer into her chest.

Quinn let herself disappear in the warmth of Rachel's body as sobs wracked throughout her body causing her to contort and wheeze and sniffle until she could barely breathe.

"Quinn, Quinn, shh, honey, it's alright. I've got you," Rachel said reassuringly, though she too had begun to cry.

"I'm so sorry, Rachel, I-I-I'm so sorry," Quinn wept into her soft chest.

Rachel kissed the top of her head and rocked her slowly, trying desperately to calm Quinn down.

Unfortunately, it would take more than comforting words and a strong pair of arms to make this right, to make it okay.

So Rachel just held her, cried with her, sang to her, alone in the backseat of her car until the sun went down and the stars came out. Eventually Quinn drifted off, and Rachel stroked her hair absentmindedly with one finger while gazing out of the window with one cheek smushed against the cold glass.

Rachek's eyes drank in the night sky and its hundreds of trillions of stars lighting up the pitch black canvas with beautiful twinkling orbs. She felt small compared to the vast open space above her, yet she wasn't wary of her significance in the world.

Rachel was saving Quinn Fabray and as she held her listening to the sound of her shallow breathing and lightly petting her soft hair, she never felt so important in her life.

And even though Quinn had no idea, Quinn was saving Rachel Berry.

Rachel smiled and placed her lips onto Quinn's cheek. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to rest.

They'd face the world tomorrow, but until then they would wait together, losing themselves in the love that consumed them into oblivion.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Okay, so, this is the final installment of this story. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you to my beta and best friend. And thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read it. Comments and reviews are always wanted as they keep me writing. You're awesome Enjoy!

* * *

Quinn should have been happy.

Finally, after years of abuse and guilt and intangible standards, Quinn Fabray was free from it all. After weeks of knowing how she felt for Rachel, Quinn was finally allowed to show her feelings to Rachel and to the world.

If she wanted to, she could run around the town declaring her love at the top of her lungs and not care who heard, but all she felt like doing was sleeping or crying or lying in Rachel's bed staring at the ceiling like she was doing right now.

She should have been happy, and she wanted so desperately to say that she was; but she wasn't.

The week after her confrontation with her parents went by in a blur, a whirlwind of tears, sobs, and absolute misery. Mr. and Mr. Berry were extremely kind, offering Quinn a warm home, feeding her delicious home cooked meals, and accepting her more than her own father had her entire life.

Rachel did all she could, all Quinn would let her. When Quinn wasn't crying, Rachel brushed her hair, changed her clothing, held her in her bed for hours until her girlfriend's eyes finally closed after days without rest and stroked her as long as she could.

Before the nightmares began, Quinn was fully content in Rachel's arms, but night after night they were always the same.

Quinn had only a few nightmares in her arsenal of remembered dreams. All of them revolved around one central theme and they began the night she read that little pink plus sign on her pregnancy test: failure.

Each one was exactly the same.

Quinn would stare at herself in a mirror. Her reflection glared back at her with tired eyes, but otherwise looked identical to Quinn. Then, suddenly, the woman's stomach began to grow larger and larger until it almost jumped out of the mirror. The eyes turned to a dark black as the face wrinkled and distorted rapidly. Quinn felt herself scream in horror of the reflection and slam her fist into the glass, causing shards of glass to fall to the floor with a deafening clatter. Her hands bleeding, Quinn slowly, breathing heavily, gazed up at the broken mirror.

There, in the one remaining shard intact was the one thing she feared most of all: nothing. The woman was gone and all that remained was an empty reflection. Every time she'd wake up screaming or crying or both and in Rachel's strong arms.

Quinn sighed as she rolled over onto her side to gaze at the one person who eased all of the pain. The woman that lay beside her had her hand underneath her smooth cheek and her hair splayed clumsily over her serene face.

Her eyes trailed over her petite frame, drinking her long bare legs, loose pajama shorts, slightly exposed stomach chiseled from her vigorous workouts, and landed on her eyes. They fluttered occasionally, the long eye lashes dressing them flawlessly though the only flaw she could spot now were the dark circles residing beneath the normally bright brown eyes.

Staring at Rachel made Quinn forget about her parents for a moment.

Rachel was terrible at concealing her emotions around Quinn, and it was obvious that she hadn't slept well in weeks either. Quinn always noticed the anxious brown eyes that watched her every move. Rachel was always ready to pick up the pieces should she fall apart once again.

But Quinn was sick of falling apart. She was sick and tired of feeling like she was worthless, a disappointment, and a failure. And yet, she felt all of these things as she lay in Rachel's bed.

"Quinn?" a groggy voice asked suddenly.

Her eyes met Rachel's tired and worried eyes slowly, time seeming to be nonexistent, and she offered a weak smile.

"Hey," she whispered back, their hands reaching out to touch.

Rachel didn't buy the fake grin for a second; in fact, she knew it was coming before she alerted Quinn that she was awake.

"Are you okay?"

Quinn sighed as her index finger grazed over the back of Rachel's outstretched hand.

"No."

Usually Quinn either answered with a weak mumble equivalent to a yes or she simply remained silent and let her eyes answer the question for her.

Her mind had shut down since the morning she woke up with a tear-stained face in the backseat of Rachel's car a week ago.

Each and everyday without fail Rachel asked Quinn how she was doing, if she was alright, and received the same ambiguous answer. Today, she decided that the usual response wouldn't do.

Rachel propped herself up onto her elbow, pulling away her hand in the process, and leaned her face into her palm.

"Are you going to tell me why?" Rachel asked softly, neither angry nor frustrated.

Rachel was lost. Quinn wouldn't leave the house, hadn't left the house for a week, and spent hours curled underneath the covers occasionally coming out for the rare meal. Quinn was pushing her away, refusing her arms, refusing her help.

Those once hazel eyes were dulled by depression and the once porcelain skin now paled like a cold winter. It had made Rachel's stomach churn with anxiety, made her nights sleepless. Sure, it had only been one week since she had come out to her parents, but the change in Quinn's behavior was drastic enough to cause Rachel's anxiety. It ripped her apart that Rachel, Quinn's girlfriend, could do nothing to help. Some days Rachel thought she made it worse.

"No," Quinn mumbled once again as she buried her head into the linen sheets.

Suddenly exasperated, Rachel ripped the blankets off of Quinn with a blunt swoosh.

"That's it!"

The change in her tone was enough to grab Quinn's attention.

"Why won't you let me in? Why won't you let me help you, Quinn? Can't you see this is killing me to see you so upset?"

"I don't want your help," Quinn snapped.

It stung, being rejected by the one she loved. Rachel was truly helpless. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she begged them not to fall.

"You're upset with me? I am sorry that your father refuses to accept you but how is that my fault?"

Quinn's eyes widened.

"How is this your fault? If it weren't for you, none of this would have happened!"

Rachel laughed hollowly.

"Yes, Quinn. If it weren't for me, you'd still be miserable, living with a man you never loved and alone while you're parents abused you day in and day out. Forgive me, Quinn! I am _so_ sorry!"

The words rolled off of her tongue with an air of malice. Pain pierced Quinn's eyes but a glaze of indifference quickly concealed the hurt.

"Because of you my father hates me," Quinn uttered in a volume barely above a whisper.

But Rachel heard it loud and clear, and the tears she had been so desperately trying to hide fell silently down her cheeks.

"Because of me, your father finally can see who you are. He may not accept you but now he isn't blinded by his delusions. Because of me you're done pretending to love Sa-,"

"Don't," Quinn growled.

Rachel stood up and furiously wiped her tears as she had done so many times before when she and Quinn had fought as teenagers, when she'd forced herself to stand tall, head held high, and take the high road instead of sinking to Quinn's ignorance and torment.

"I am not going to sit here while you insult me and protect your homophobic father, Quinn. I love you, and I don't care about your father, or my fathers, or what anyone else thinks. But if you can't love me because of how one person, the person who has beaten and abused you for over twenty years, thinks of you, then I can't be with you."

With that, Rachel stormed out of the room and down the stairs, cursing the tears that refused to cease falling and Russell Fabray.

-/-

Quinn sat stoically on Rachel's soft couch. It felt worn, but not in the bad  
"we should replace this piece of junk," way; she could feel just by sitting on the piece of furniture that it had been loved and used and that countless Berry Family Game nights had taken place on it and that Broadway Movie-Made Musical nights had been endured by the weathered material.

It was so unlike her old furniture, the antique and delicate couches her mother spent hours picking out with no intention of actually sitting on. They were for display, proof that the Fabray's were a wealthy family, a respectable family and that they could afford an ornate couch so unlike the one she sat on now.

The television was off. She stared off past the inanimate object, her mind far from the living room of the Berry's.

"She's upset," a deep voice stated as Quinn felt herself sink into the cushion as Leroy Berry accompanied her on the couch.

"I know," she sighed, her voice laced with guilt.

"You know, my daughter is much more fragile than she looks. I know she may be a fireball on the outside but after being hurt and let down so many times in her life, it's hard for her to truly be herself anymore. To be honest, I miss the girl who could call someone out on anything and not care about the consequences. Now she's such a good actress that I can hardly tell when I'm seeing the real Rachel, you know?"

Quinn didn't know. Sure, she imagined the repercussions of her torment and torture, but she never thought that it would damage Rachel nearly as much as it apparently had. Of course she noticed on the first day they met again since high school that Rachel's eyes lacked the luster she remembered unusually well, but Quinn never thought she had anything to do with it. A searing pain pierced her heart as the remorse just kept piling up inside of her.

"She loves you," he said quietly. "She wants to make you happy again."

"Again?" she asked sardonically. "When was that?"

Leroy understood Quinn's anger. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked calmly.

Quinn nodded as she felt the stress slowly dissipate with the simple touch of his hand.

"When I was sixteen, I was a running back on the football team. Hiram's world never seemed to meet up with mine. I was a jock. He was a genius or as my fellow teammates called him a nerd. It really is a miracle that I was terrible at math because junior year I was in desperate need of a calculus tutor. I assume you know who I was assigned to. Bless that man. We spent three months drilling formula after formula, problem after problem, until finally my grades were almost as good as his. It wasn't until the end of the first month that I realized that I was falling for him. And it scared the life out of me. Imagine what the guys on the team would say if they found out that I loved Hiram? But one late night we were up studying at my house, and I forgot to be afraid. It was a Saturday night, my parents were out and it was raining. He told me how much he loved the rain. I remember he said he loved it because it sang music only a true listener could hear. And we sat on the floor and listened to the rain patter against the window until suddenly we moved closer and closer together. And then we kissed. And it was incredible.

"I knew from then on things weren't going to be easy so we decided for both of our safeties to date secretly. It was going well until Russell Fabray, the quarterback, caught me kissing Hiram in the boys' bathroom. Within a day, the entire school knew that Hiram and I were gay, that I was gay. The team spray painted fag on my locker and broke Hiram's glasses. At the end of the day, Russell kicked me off of the team and brought Hiram and me into the parking lot. For three hours he forced Hiram to watch as they beat me up. When it was finally over, Hiram brought me home where finally I thought I'd be safe. But Russell had told our parents and before I could even clean off my bloody nose I was homeless, parentless, and miserable. My mother cried; my father yelled, called me things I will never repeat and threw me out."

Quinn's breath caught in her throat.

"Have you…" she began but couldn't find the voice to finish the question.

"I haven't seen my parents since that night. They moved out of town by the end of the month. They couldn't stand living in the same town as their gay son."

Quinn's heart wrenched as she sympathized with sixteen-year-old Leroy.

"But you're still with him?" Quinn asked incredulously.

A proud smile pervaded Leroy's lips.

"Yes, Quinn. Forty-three years later and I am still with him."

"How?"

He smiled at her innocence, at her disbelief..

"After my parents threw me out, I was severely depressed. Hiram's parents took me in, and he took care of me for a long time. For a while I hated him. He was the reason I had lost everything. I wasn't popular anymore. Everyone hated me. My parents hated me. I hated me. So I refused to let him in for all of those weeks he took care of me. But even though I treated him so poorly and so unfairly, he never left. He just stayed with me and held me when I slept, and calmed me down after the nightmares, and held onto me until I was okay again. And that's when I knew."

Quinn was hanging on his every word.

"Knew what?" she breathed as she shed a few tears.

"That's when I knew that I loved him. You see, Quinn, you and I are more alike than you'd think. I lost my sight after my parents kicked me out, after I lost everything. I was so hung up over my father's words, your father's words, and the hatred I was receiving from my peers, that I couldn't see what was right in front of me. I realized that as bad as my situation was I had Hiram. And he was worth it. He is worth every minute of pain I have ever gone through because I am gay."

Quinn sighed and gently wiped her eyes.

"How are you so okay with it? I mean Rachel never even had to think twice about it. She-,"

"That is where you are wrong. You terrify her. _This_ terrifies her. When she told us about how she felt for you, how she feels for you, she was a wreck. I've never seen her so upset before. She was and still is terrified that you will hurt her again."

Quinn winced.

"But she's still here, remember?" Leroy said reassuringly. "Even though you have treated her terribly, she hasn't given up on you. She is still here taking care of you and trying to make you happy, just like Hiram did for me. Don't be blind, Quinn. Don't be blinded by your father's hatred. She's still here."

Quinn nodded furiously as her bottom lip quivered, but before she could fall apart, two strong arms enveloped her in a tight hug, pulling her into his warm chest.

It was the safest she had ever felt in a man's arms.

Quinn left his arms with a soft smile and a new conviction.

"Thank you," she choked out as his soft thumb wiped away her tears.

Leroy kissed her cheek.

"Take care of her."

Quinn nodded once more before running back up the stairs stepping two steps at a time. She burst into Rachel's room to find Rachel in the middle of her bed with a wooden box opened at the base of her crossed legs. Her eyes trailed up the bed and saw the dried rose and worn out piece of paper held in two shaking hands. Tears flowed down flawless tan cheeks.

Quinn felt her heart break.

"I was so scared when we went to New York," Quinn began shakily, Rachel's head snapping up at the sound of Quinn's voice.

"You see, I had this grand master plan that I was determined to see through. I was a bitch in high school. I was the meanest girl in school. And I tormented this one girl who, though I never admitted it, was the most beautiful girl in that hellhole. She was smart and talented and ambitious and yet I tore her apart to the point where she believed that she wasn't any of those things. But senior year, after I had moved back in with my parents, something changed. I allowed myself to see her; I mean, really see her. I found myself staring at her whenever I could. I found myself getting goose bumps whenever she sang in Glee Club. Countless times I wanted to approach her and apologize and beg for forgiveness and ask to be her friend. But I was a coward. I still am," she admitted with a hollow laugh. "I was terrified of her rejecting me. I was afraid that she truly hated me. And she had every right to hate me, and she still does.

"I flew under the radar for most of senior year until Nationals finally came around. Graduation was coming faster and faster, and I was running out of time. After I had gotten my acceptance letter, I had noticed that something changed. The girl's eyes sparkled less. I noticed, when no one else did, that she never smiled the same; it never reached her eyes. That's when I knew it was my fault. I was responsible for her misery. So I decided to make up for it in some way or another. We went to New York and the second we landed I ran to the nearest florist. I bought her favorite flowers, roses with baby's breath, and hid them in my bag. The night of our performance I saw how nervous she looked. We all knew she'd be incredible, but for some reason she didn't believe it. I snuck into my room and grabbed the bouquet and an empty white card -," she took the card gently out of Rachel's unsteady hands. "I wrote everything I ever wanted to tell her on that card. I wanted her to know the truth. So I placed it on her dresser and ran out. I was a coward. I didn't have the guts to say those things to her face then. But it's different now. I thought that I hated her because of what my father told me, but let's face it. It is impossible to hate her. I spent four years trying so hard to hate her but I ended up falling for her, the one person I was forbidden to like. And then I saw her, years after that night, and I couldn't believe it. She was- is still the same beautiful, talented, woman I fell for my senior year in high school."

Rachel's eyes were wide as clear tears streamed down her cheeks.

"It was you," she breathed in shock.

Quinn shook her head and dropped the note and the rose onto the bed to take Rachel's soft hands.

"It was me," she whispered with a small smile.

"But your father and -,"

"Rachel," Quinn said soothingly, "remember what you told me."

Rachel thought for a moment before her puzzled expression transformed into a full fledged Rachel Berry beam.

"We're going to make it," she murmured, lifting herself up onto her toes and quickly, desperately, taking Quinn's lip with hers.

They fused together and immediately their eyes snapped shut. Quinn's heart was pounding loudly in her ears as she felt the blood rush to her head. A tongue grazed over her bottom lip causing a rush of electricity to ripple through her body, a ripple of life that could sustain her forever.

-/- 1 year later -/-

They would make it.

Quinn reapplied to NYU's liberal art school the following fall, early decision, working endlessly on her application. Rachel coached her and reread, proofread, and approved every word sent in.

Hiram and Leroy framed her acceptance letter that spring.

Rachel reapplied to Juliard and NYU's acting school, Tisch, along with a few other safety schools in the city.

Quinn held her hand on the day Juliard's acceptance letter came in the mail.

During the year, Quinn and Rachel worked and saved up enough money to rent an apartment in the city close to both of their schools. They moved in the following summer, leaving Hiram and Leroy with tears in their eyes as their rented U-haul van disappeared down the street.

Quinn drove while Rachel played DJ, belting along to every song while Quinn just smiled, teasing that Rachel should save her voice for school.

Rachel rolled her eyes every time.

New York was tough. Rachel had to work harder than she ever had to work in Lima to get even a fraction of the recognition and approval that she had become accustomed to in high school. Quinn was pushed to the limit, writing paper after paper, taking exam after exam, and was hell-bent on getting her New York teaching license, to teach math in the poorest areas in the city.

It had been one year since Quinn and Rachel met by chance at a mediocre theater in Lima after years apart. It had been one year since Rachel and Quinn fell in love. It had been one year since Russell Fabray disowned his daughter. It had been one year since Quinn had fallen apart in the backseat of Rachel's car. It had been years since Quinn and Rachel accepted who they were.

Yes, they would make it.

But it was only the beginning.


End file.
